Under the Sea
by DragonSapphire
Summary: Rebellious merman Kyle is fascinated with life on land. On one of his visits to the surface, which are forbidden by his controlling mother, Queen Sheila, he falls for a human prince. Determined to be with his new love, Kyle makes a dangerous deal with the sea witch to become human. Cartman/Kyle, Craig/Clyde, Kenny/Butters
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or its characters, and make no profit from writing this story. South Park & Characters are property of Matt Stone & Trey Parker.

 **Under the Sea**

by DragonSapphire

 _/ - denotes flashback_

-

Kyle was sulking in his cave after his mom, of all possible merfolk in the sea, had caught him at the water's surface, and dragged him back down by his tailfins, ears still ringing from her loud admonitions.

 _/"Why can't you be more like your little brother Ike? You never see him up there, waiting to be caught by some fisherman's hook or harpoon or Poseidon knows what! He is perfectly content to stay under the sea where he belongs. How are you ever going to become a respectable lawyer if everyone thinks you've got your head in the clouds, Kyle? You know I'm only looking out for your best interests./_

Kyle had been watching the sunrise over the still horizon and basking in the warmth of its yellow-orange glow. He was so in awe of the beauty of the outside world when all he'd ever known was cold, dark, and wet. He knew for a fact Ike came above the surface to shoot down noisy pelicans and seagulls with a slingshot he'd found washed up on a beach, but somehow he was sly enough to have not been caught yet. However, Kyle, with his emerald green tail and wild ruby curls, stuck out like clownfish in a school of minnows.

 _/"But I want to breathe, Mom!" he had argued, even knowing his pleading would fall on deaf ears. "I'm suffocating under here and every day is exactly the same as the one before it - water, water, and oh hey! More water."_

 _"Don't be ridiculous, you are not suffocating, Kyle. Maybe you just need to clean out your gills. Are you using the volcanic pumice stone I gave you? It's very expensive, you know."_

 _"My gills are fine! It's this damn sea! Do you even know what snow looks like, mom? Or rain, or any of the seasons?"_

 _"Language!" Sheila clucked. "I don't need to see snow to know I belong down here. Do you know how enormous the entire sea is? You have miles and miles to explore underwater right in front of you, and you're safe here! How could you possibly want more?"_

 _"You don't understand. I want to be where the people are! I want more than just this life!"_

 _"We are your people, bubbeh. Now, I'll hear no more of this. You are forbidden to go anywhere near the surface, do I make myself clear?"_

 _"Crystal," Kyle sighed, but he'd twisted his fingers together behind him in a silent promise that he would reach the surface again, no matter the consequences./_

How could life under the sea possibly compare to life above it?

* * *

"I think I see a ship in the distance!" First Lieutenant Stanley Marsh shouted, binoculars pressed to his eyes as he pointed off the starboard bow at a faint speck that looked like a stray cloud. "They could be whale poachers!"

"Oh my god, Stan. Seriously, you guys. Who the hell even hunts for whales anymore after what happened to that giant dick and Captain Ahab guy anyhow?"

"It's Moby Dick, Fatass. And there are plenty of people still hunting whales! It's your duty as prince to put a stop to it!"

Prince Eric Cartman yawned loudly, swinging gently in a hammock tied between the ship's masts, as he signaled his servant to bring him another mojito concoction he'd recently discovered at some foreign dignitary's boring ball. Those Conquistadors certainly knew what was up, even if his second-in-command insisted that he be a stick in the mud and had dragged him out on this lame scouting mission to catch non-existent whale hunters. He only agreed to come since the excursion got him away from the kingdom and all of the whiny, needy commoners that came crying to him for more food or lower taxes or not to behead their husband/wife/goat, blah blah blah.

"Butters!" he yelled, "Hurry it up! You'd better not be talking to that damn crab again!"

Butters came scrambling up from below deck with a suspicious bulge in his front pocket, which waved a gleaming red pincher in the gap the crustacean must have made in the seam. Butters was going to have fits if he lost that stupid crab again. The last time he'd barely rescued it in time from Chef, Cartman's personal cook, who had been despairing of the same fare of cheesy poofs and a new Italian cuisine called pizza Cartman had discovered on a trip abroad and had demanded every day since.

Butter had saved the crab from a boiling pot of bisque, named him Kenny, and they'd been inseparable ever since.

Cartman was going to boil Kenny himself if he caught Butters off in a corner talking to it again, the crab cupped in his palms and brought close to his face as he whispered earnestly into his hands. Butters was totally going to catch crabs himself if he kept up the unnatural relationship for much longer.

"H-Here you go, y-your Majesty," Butters said, running over with a tall clear glass garnished with bright green mint leaves at the bottom.

"Took you long enough!" Cartman snapped, reaching out for the drink, which is when - of course - Butters tripped and sent the glass and its contents smashing to the deck.

"Oh hamburgers!" Butters cried, and Cartman just sighed, too tired to string the useless boy up and flog him again.

"Butters, go swab the poop deck," he said dismissively instead, after Butters had swept up the mess and tossed the shards overboard. Cartman had been starting to get lightheaded from all the mojitos anyway, so he was feeling charitable.

"O-Oh. Again?" Butters said fretfully, glancing over to the area indicated with an anxious expression. "But I already cleaned it this morning, Prince Eric!"

"Well clean it again, Butters! My stomach has been off lately - I think Chef has been messing with the pizza recipe so he doesn't have to make it anymore. I'd bring gloves if I were you."

"Okay, Eric," Butters said sadly as left, patting his shirt pocket as he did.

"That's Prince Eric to you!" Cartman called as Butters retrieved a mop and bucket and got to work. "Or Your Supreme Royalness, Master of the South Seas and five-time Reigning Champion of the kingdom's annual pie eating contest, His Lordship, Prince Eric Theodore Cartman!"

Cartman swept his hand out in a grandiose gesture indicating the entire world was his oyster and he was damn well going to make it his bitch. And then he noticed the sky ahead and choked.

The specky cloud Stan had spotted earlier seemed to have gathered friends in the past few minutes, and was now a roiling, threatening grey mass that sent sparks of lightning shooting towards the rapidly diminishing gap between them.

"Uh, fellas," Butters broke in hesitantly, staring off towards the oncoming storm. "I don't know much about sailing, but I think maybe we should turn around now? My dad will ground me if I'm late getting back."

Stan had already started racing around the deck, pulling in sails and yelling orders at the crew, which was comprised of Prince Eric, Stan, Butters, and Chef, since the ship was fairly small and they'd only planned on a short excursion. Oh, and there was Kenny too.

Basically they were fucked. 

* * *

Kyle finally pried off the remora fish his mom had stuck on his tailfin in order to report back all of his activities to her and make sure he didn't venture into no merman's land. He used an assortment of human tools he secretly hoarded in the back of his cave to threaten the fish into releasing its suckers and trapped it in an intricate bowl made out of coral, which he inverted and placed a large stone on top of to keep the remora from escaping and tattling until he returned. He was desperate to see the sun after weeks of house arrest, and barely spared a moment to grab his clamshell satchel before he was swimming towards the sparkle of sunlight reflecting off the waves so fast he could feel his insides twist with the sudden change of pressure.

He breached the water with a shout of triumph and shook salt water out of his hair, which immediately poofed up and tangled into wild curls as the warm sun dried the thick red mess. He turned his face towards the wonderfully brilliant light and was met with the great hulking sight of a ship as the large wooden vessel nearly ran him over. He scrambled out of the way and watched the ship pass just overhead, completely enthralled by the size and impossibility of something so big that could float and move so effortlessly over the water.

"Humans!" Kyle gasped excitedly, feeling an illicit thrill spike through him as he saw several figures moving on the deck after he carefully emerged to watch.

He'd never been so close to an actual floating ship before, although he'd seen plenty of sunken ships and a few of their poor doomed passengers. His mom expressly forbade him to go anywhere near, so of course he combed all of the shipwrecks he could find and hoarded their treasures possessively. Or at least, whatever odds and ends were left after the sea witch had scoured the ships first, usually taking the bodies and doing only Poseidon knew what with them.

Kyle treaded water and watched the ship gradually getting smaller and smaller in the distance, and for a moment his heart pounded in contemplation. If he stayed right where he was, then the ship would sail away and no one would ever know how close he could have come to possibly being spotted, but he could still claim with all honesty that he hadn't been out looking for the humans, technically.

Before his mind was even fully made up, Kyle struck out and kept pace with the ship until he pulled up next to a loose swath of netting that draped over the side of the ship. He reached out and grabbed a handful before he could second guess himself, hauling himself up and towards where he heard voices above.

"Oh hamburgers!" he heard someone call, and Kyle barely had time to duck when a light-haired human tossed something sparkly overboard. Kyle reached out and snatched a shard as it fell past him, nearly dropping it with a shout as the sharp glass sliced his finger. He tucked the fragment away in his clam shell pouch anyway, and sucked absently on his bleeding finger as he watched the humans in fascination, particularly the larger, handsome one that everyone else seemed to defer. Kyle stared at him, instantly impressed and captivated by his "Supreme Royalness, Master of the South Seas and five-time Reigning Champion of the kingdom's annual pie eating contest, His Lordship, Eric Theodore Cartman," even though Kyle wasn't quite sure what pie was, but it sounded dangerous and heroic.

He wasn't sure how long he observed the humans for, but he was startled when a bolt flashed overhead along with a loud clap that signaled a sudden, gusty deluge that blew Kyle right off the side of the ship where he was thrown by the vicious waves and winds. He ducked under the roiling waves, and warred with his own instincts to turn tail and flee back home, knowing he'd been gone long enough already that his mother was going to actually turn him into sushi as soon as he returned.

Then lightning struck again and a loud crack Kyle could hear even underwater nearly deafened him as a thick length of jagged wood suddenly speared through the water and straight at him. A harpoon! Kyle thought in panic as the wood clipped his shoulder when he didn't move out of the way fast enough, sending a crimson cloud of blood from the wound that - combined with his already injured hand - would signal every single shark within miles to his location.

Kyle had already turned away when heavy objects started hitting the sea around him, sending up great founts of water and obstacles he had to duck and dodge to keep from getting clobbered again. When the water cleared enough to see through, Kyle realized some of the objects falling into the sea were bodies. They were still living, from the way they thrashed and clung to the scraps of wood that were all that was left of the ship. Apparently the vessel had been struck by lightning and was being ripped apart by the waves right before Kyle's eyes.

Kyle resisted the urge to help, knowing he was endangering the humans even further the longer he stayed and bled out, certainly alerting sharks to where the men were floating helplessly like waiting entrees. He couldn't hesitate any longer, needing to get home and bandaged up before he ended up eaten himself. With one last glance at the stranded humans and silently wishing them luck, Kyle swam with determination, keeping an eye out for the telling dorsal fins of a predator.

He must have gotten only half a mile when he saw the first sleek body of a grey shark cutting through the water with impossible speed. He was caught out in the open with no possible chance of out-swimming the dangerous creature, who was as long as he was but had to weigh twice as much.

Fortunately for Kyle, the shark appeared to be alone and seemed willing to ignore the merman for the time being. Unfortunately for the humans, it had its eye on bigger and better prey.

Kyle cursed himself as an idiot a thousand times over as he flipped over and took off after the shark with his head buzzing and his heart pounding. What the hell was he even going to do - punch it in the nose and hope for the best? He was as defenseless as the humans, with his only advantage being that he could see the shark underwater and there was no chance of him drowning.

When he reached the humans, the shark was almost ready to take the leg off one of them until Kyle grabbed for a chunk of wood, similar to the one that had cut him earlier, and jammed the pointy end at the shark's flank with all of his strength. The wood didn't pierce the tough skin, but the shark thrashed and turned to snap at him, the lethal rows of teeth missing Kyle's arm by inches.

"No you don't, you ugly fucker!" Kyle yelled, jabbing at the shark's slit eye and connecting as the creature let out a piercing bellow. Kyle's victory was short lived as the shark lashed out and caught him across the abdomen with its strong tail, knocking the air out of him as he doubled over and dropped the stick as the shark retreated, but Kyle dreaded there would be more, and soon.

The humans seemed to have pulled together several large scraps of wood and climb onto their makeshift raft in the interim, and Kyle chanced a look when he thought they would be too distracted to notice him poking his head out of the water, grateful for the passing of the storm as the waves began to settle. He counted three humans and a crab, which is what he saw onboard the ship when he'd been spying on the crew earlier. He felt a wave of relief until he noticed the fourth human was a very large and dark-skinned man he hadn't seen before, and they were all calling for Prince Eric, who was apparently nowhere to be seen.

Kyle felt panic well up in his throat as he dove back under and searched frantically through the wreckage for the one human that Kyle had taken a keen interest in the brief time he had seen him on deck, proud and striking, and apparently missing.

He had just about given up the search after nearly getting concussed by more wood and briefly trapped in fishing line, when he finally spotted a figure in the distance struggling with a mass of netting that had tangled around the person which was preventing them from swimming. The net was tied to an enormous pole that was starting to sink under the water, dragging the helpless man down with it. With a start, Kyle realized the person must be the lost prince, too far away from the raft to be seen or heard.

For a moment he struggled against the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his mother warning him never to be seen by humans, and absolutely forbidding him to interact with them - a law meant for all merfolk and punishable by banishment or worse. Usually a mer sighting meant death for the human or humans who spotted one, but if this human was already doomed to die, either by drowning or by shark attack, what did it matter if he saw Kyle?

Kyle approached the man quickly but cautiously, and Prince Eric yelled in fear when he felt Kyle's hands brush against him, taking in a mouthful of water for his troubles. Kyle dodged the other's flailing limbs and pulled at the ropes frantically, cursing when they refused to give and the prince began to sink, both of them drawn farther and farther away from the surface with each passing second. Kyle didn't know how long humans could hold their breath underwater, but judging by the way Prince Eric was starting to go still and turn blue, Kyle guessed it wasn't long.

Kyle knew with a sinking realization that he would never be able to untangle the rope in time, and Prince Eric's stunning brown eyes were beginning to slip shut. Kyle let go of the rope and swam towards the surface and drawing in a great lungful of air before diving and swimming back to Eric. He was nearly unconscious when Kyle grabbed his face between his hands and pressed their lips together. Prince Eric's eyes shot open in surprise, and fortunately so did his mouth. Kyle breathed air into his lungs before the prince could pull away, returning his shocked gaze and holding their mouths together even when he ran out of any more air to give him. Kyle blushed and pulled away, turning back to the task at hand and determinedly not looking the temporarily revived prince in the face.

He pulled viciously at the rope and winced when the harsh fibers cut open his finger again. And then Kyle remembered. His finger! He dug frantically in his satchel and pulled out the shard of glass, which he immediately placed against the rope and began sawing. He nearly cried out in relief when the first strands snapped and he worked relentlessly, cutting through the others piece by piece. Regardless of Kyle's efforts, he seemed to make little headway in order to stop every minute or two to replenish the prince's air supply, and the trips to the surface and back were taking longer and longer as Eric continued to drop further into the watery depths of the sea.

He had nearly cut away the final piece of rope anchoring Prince Eric to the mast, when he felt a disturbance in the water, and swirled around to find the biggest great white shark Kyle had ever seen barreling straight for them. He froze like a guppy caught in an angler fish's light, clinging to Prince Eric who was limp and still against him.

The shark was nearly upon them when Kyle recalled the glass in his hand and stabbed at the great white before it could close its massive jaws around his midsection and bite him in two. The glass lodged into the shark's snout with a spray of blood, knocking the shark off course as it violently shook its head, temporarily blinded by pain.

Kyle used the diversion to yank frantically at Eric's arms, pulling him upwards and crying out in helplessness when they were jarred to an abrupt stop by the single length of rope still tangled around Eric's foot. Kyle let go and scrambled at the knots with his fingers, which he could have easily cut through if the glass he'd been using wasn't currently embedded in a fucking shark. He saw the shark circle them and prepare for its second charge, not as easily deterred from its meal as the first had been. He only had time for a quick prayer that his mom didn't kill him if she ever found out he took on two sharks single-handedly in order save the lives of humans, only to get himself eaten in the process.

Kyle closed his eyes and dropped the rope to wrap himself around Eric's unmoving body, pulling as hard as he could while bracing for impact. Eric was nearly yanked out of his arms as the shark bit down with a snap, and for a moment Kyle feared the shark had gone for Eric instead, who was admittedly the bigger and juicier morsel. The prince was suddenly lighter in his grip, and Kyle didn't open his eyes as he held the man close and swam frantically for the surface, terrified that he was only dragging half a body along with him and what remained of Eric's lower half was shark chum.

Fortune seemed to finally be on his side, although possibly too late, as Kyle and Eric surfaced and the merman spotted land not too far off from their current location. Eric was pale and unresponsive, and Kyle sent out a fervent prayer to the gods as he ducked his head under to access the damage. He was startled when he saw the prince was fully intact with only a severed line of rope trailing from his boot, which the shark must have bitten through and accidentally freed him.

Kyle nearly went weak with relief, but he knew he couldn't afford to delay since the shark was still somewhere out there, angry and hungry. He tucked Eric against his chest and swum towards land until his lungs and tail burned, refusing to stop or slow down even though his spine prickled in fear, awaiting attack from below at any moment.

It felt like eternity had passed when Kyle bumped into solid rocks and boulders as he finally entered shallow waters, knowing they wouldn't be completely safe until they were completely out of the water. He heard a splash behind them, and glanced back before he could stop himself, seeing a grey dorsal fin break over the waves and approaching swiftly. Land was possibly twenty feet before them, but the distance stretched like eternity. Kyle shoved Eric away from him and towards the beach, hoping the waves would carry his human the rest of the way as Kyle turned, preparing to sacrifice himself to the shark so that Eric could have a chance.

Kyle was too exhausted to fight, but his death would at least be quick, if not painless. He pressed fingers to his lips, recalling the taste of Eric's mouth and wishing he had taken one last kiss with him as he closed his eyes and waited. Kyle was completely bowled over as a sleek form knocked into his side and chirped shrilly in his ear in a familiar chatter. His eyes flew open in shock to see a dolphin swimming in happy circles around him, decorated with a bridle shining with the royal colors.

His family's colors.

Oh god. His mom. Kyle was still dead.

"Kyle!" he heard a voice call, and Kyle startled when it was the light tones of his little brother and not the banshee-like shriek of their mother.

"Ike!" Kyle cried out, seeing several more dolphins jump over the waves with the younger, dark-haired mer clinging to the back of one of them. "Oh my god, am I happy to see you!"

"I bet!" Ike said, as he came closer with his dolphin, grinning hugely at his own daring rescue. "You're seriously fucking lucky I went looking for you before mom or dad did and found that remora you'd locked up. I can't believe you went off to fight sharks and save humans! That is seriously fucking insane, bro. Mom would have a cowfish if she found out!"

"Yeah..." Kyle sighed, and then jumped. He was supposed to be saving humans!

"Chill. Albert's got him," Ike cut in before Kyle had a complete meltdown. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he went through all of that only to let the prince drown mere feet from shore.

"Did you see the other humans? There were four on a raft." Kyle asked suddenly, feeling a pang of guilt for only remembering them now when he'd left them defenseless and completely unsuspecting of the sharks.

"Yep! I snuck out half of the pod from the stables when I saw the shit storm you were headed into. They're already pulling them on land a few miles down. I don't think they saw either of us, which means maybe mom won't completely scale our tails when she finds out. Six dolphins are kinda hard to hide though, sorry." Ike shrugged, not looking too apologetic even though it was likely neither of them would ever see the light of day again.

Kyle watched as Albert nudged and rolled Eric onto the beach, feeling unbelievably grateful to his little brother as the human uttered a weak moan and flipped over gracelessly, coughing out salt water. He knew his time was up, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the other's prone form, sprawled out and shivering in the sand. The humans would find him soon and bring him back home, no doubt, and that would be the last Kyle would ever see of him.

He barely managed to stifle a sob at the thought, feeling helpless and trapped by his stupid fins and the stupid rules he had to live by because of them. If only he'd been born human, then he could be with the prince and make sure he would be okay.

"Dude," Ike said softly, laying a hand lightly on Kyle's arm just below his wound, which was now beginning to heal over, scoured clean by salt water. "We had better go before mom rallies the entire kingdom to go looking for us."

Ike brought his fingers to his mouth and blew out one short, piercing whistle. The dolphins called back cheerfully and surrounded them in a protective ring to escort them back home. Kyle nearly allowed himself to be guided back with Ike's hand still on his arm, when Prince Eric shakily pushed himself onto an elbow and called out towards them.

"Ey! Gay fish! Get the hell back here! You've got some explaining to do!"

Ike snorted with laughter and clapped Kyle on the back as the other mer couldn't help making an offended noise at the prince's crude summoning. "Got yourself a catch there," Ike teased, before he gave Kyle a push towards shore. "Go ahead. I'll tell mom and dad...something. Good luck, gay fish."

Ike laughed again before disappearing with the pod under the water, and Kyle was left alone with the prince, who was slumped on his side again but staring intently out at Kyle. Kyle felt nervous chills break out over him, irrationally more terrified now than he had been fighting off sharks, but he obeyed the call before he could psych himself out, taking the chance Ike had left for him to pull himself awkwardly ashore and over to the other prince.

Kyle saw Eric's eyes widen when the deep green of his scales flashed in the moonlight, feeling bashful under the other's stare. He stopped a few feet away, feeling gritty sand scrape his palms and sand already gunking up his gills, but he doubted the breathlessness he felt had anything to do with sand, and everything to do with the stunned, heated gaze the prince fixed on him.

"C'mere, fish boy," Eric murmured, holding out his arms, and Kyle rolled his eyes in exasperation at the terrible nicknames before he flung himself into the other's waiting embrace.

Their mouths connected without the buffer of water and the threat of death hanging over their heads, wet and unbelievably hot as they wrapped arms around each other with Kyle sprawled out half on top of Eric. Kyle felt breathless and helpless with desire, like Eric was still sucking all of the air out of him, and he could only hold on and let him.

All too soon, Eric started growing heavy in Kyle's arms, and his kisses became tired and sloppy as the brief burst of adrenaline gave away to sheer exhaustion. Eric gave a groan of protest when Kyle reluctantly pulled away and stroked fingers across his forehead, pushing damp brown hair to the side as Kyle pressed one more kiss to the corner of his mouth and nudged up close against Eric's side with an arm thrown protectively over his waist.

Eric grumbled a bit, but he drew Kyle closer before he closed his eyes and almost immediately began snoring. Kyle rested his head on the prince's chest and listened to the wonderful sound of his heart beating, wishing that this night would never end so he could be in his beloved's arms forever. Kyle stayed curled around Prince Eric to keep him warm throughout the night, stroking his hair and singing softly until the dawn he had loved so much until this moment lit up the sky in streaks of vibrant purple and orange much too soon.

The breaking of the sun also heralded voices off in the distance, gradually coming closer and closer until Kyle realized they were calling for the man he'd been falling helplessly in love with while the other slept, watched over and protected by one whose people were known for killing and eating humans themselves. Well, at least they had until Kyle's mother had mandated no contact with humans whatsoever after Sheila's own parents, the former king and queen, had been killed by poachers when Kyle was only a baby. Most merfolk ate fish and plant life now, with the except of a few like the sea witch who tended to stick with the old ways, as the taste for human flesh had yet to fade. Or so the rumors went.

When Kyle heard the crunch of sand under many boots, he knew he could delay no longer. He pressed a brief but heartfelt kiss to Eric's mouth, soft and pliant in sleep, before he pulled himself away and dove back into the chilly water, heading home without a glance backward, even though he'd left his heart on that beach.

With a human.


	2. Chapter 2

The swim back home seemed to stretch on for twenty thousand leagues, worsened by the fact Kyle had been met and escorted by his parents' personal dolphins, Neptune and Circe, when he was only a few feet out from shore. The dolphins were large and unusually somber for their breed, and their appearance meant his parents knew exactly where he was and what he'd been doing, and the ramifications hit Kyle like a blow to his still-bruised gut.

There was a good possibility he wouldn't be put to death for his numerous transgressions, but he wasn't sure he wouldn't prefer an execution to the tongue-lashing he would get from his mother. His father, at least, was the more calm and reasonable of the two, but he was also a ruthless stickler for obeying the rules and had enormous expectations of both his sons, especially with Kyle being the future heir to their kingdom of Atlantica.

Their castle under the sea was an immense and sprawling estate, host to a vast number of merfolk and sea life from all over the world. The dolphins guided him right through the middle of the courtyard like a prisoner on display, and for all Kyle knew, that's exactly what he was. Crowds of mer huddled together and whispered while staring at the lone prince, and Kyle could already gauge from their solemn and condemning countenance that the whole palace already knew exactly what he'd done, or at least had a good idea.

Kyle kept his head raised proudly and his gaze fixed firmly forward, even as he fought the urge to tremble and curl into a ball. The distance from the palace gates to the inner throne room was both too quick and never ending, and he swallowed nervously when the dolphins deposited him right at the base of his parents' towering thrones and left. The formal setting did not bode well for Kyle, although Ike's presence off to the side unknotted a sliver of tension in his shoulders. His brother looked small and pale, even though he managed a weak, supportive smile for Kyle which quickly disappeared when their father cleared his throat.

"You cannot imagine how deeply disappointed your mother and I are in you, Kyle," Gerald began, his voice the same steady calm right before he tore a defendant down piece by meticulous piece in court.

Kyle's fingers began to tremble, and he clenched them into fists at his sides as he looked up at his father and desperately implored, "I can explain! I didn't mean-"

"Because you and your brother have been taught since _birth_ and told time and time again how dangerous humans are," Gerald continued as if Kyle hadn't spoken, staring past Kyle's shoulder like he couldn't stand to look at him at the moment. "You _know_ how important it is that we are not seen. I don't think you realize the sort of position you have put your mother and I in, and the danger you brought to the entire kingdom by revealing our presence to the humans."

"But they would have died if I'd left them!"

"Then you should have let them die."

Sheila spoke for the first time since Kyle's arrival, and Kyle had never heard his mother sound so cold or spiteful. "They murdered your grandparents and a countless number of our people."

"Mer have killed people too! You used to _eat_ them, for Poseidon's sake!"

"We only attacked them so we could survive, Kyle! And even after we banned the killing of humans, they still continue to come after, us even now! How can you defend them when you've been hurt by them yourself?" Sheila exclaimed, gesturing at Kyle.

Kyle glanced down at his wounded shoulder, thankfully no longer bleeding, where his mother pointed accusingly with a sharp red nail.

"That was an accident! It was from their ship after they'd been hit by lightning."

"A ship you had no business being near! The humans deserved their fate. Especially the one you risked your life to save from _sharks_ , Kyle! What where you thinking?"

"I love him!" Kyle shouted defensively, and immediately clapped a hand over his mouth as Ike shot him a look of pure horror, which his parents echoed with their own shouts of outrage and disgust.

"What what WHAT?! How could you even _think_ of consorting with one of those filthy humans? Your grandparents would be rolling over in their graves!" his mother exploded, and Gerald followed quickly on her tail.

"How could you disgrace your family and your entire race like this? You are a PRINCE! You should be ashamed!" Gerald berated when Sheila paused for breath, visibly gearing herself up for a truly epic reprimand.

"I don't know where we went wrong with you, Kyle! We have been far too lenient with your trips to the surface and treasure hunting for dangerous human creations. Don't think we don't know what you've been hiding up in your cave! Your fascination with the humans is unnatural and will end today. Do I make myself clear? It ends now!"

Ike moved forward to intervene on Kyle's behalf, but Kyle couldn't continue to hide behind the protection of his little brother any longer, and cut him off before Ike's pleas were fully formed.

"You're right. It does end today. The kingdom can't have a prince who is in love with a human, and I can't live without him. So I'm leaving. For good."

"Kyle, no!"

The cry came simultaneously from all three of his family members but Kyle tuned his parents out as he turned to catch the smaller mer who had thrown himself at Kyle, as if to bodily force him to stay. Kyle wrapped his arms and tail around Ike's sapphire blue one, squeezing him tightly as Ike buried his face into Kyle's chest, crying.

"You can't leave me here alone!" Ike sobbed, and the 'with them' at the end of that sentence went unspoken, but not unheard. Kyle was dropping a whole sea full of fish shit onto Ike's tiny shoulders, which he certainly didn't deserve, but what other choice did he have?

"I am so sorry, Ike. If there were any other way, I swear..."

"I know," Ike mumbled as he wiped tears and snot on Kyle's bare chest, which was no less than he deserved. "But where will you go? What will you do?"

Ike looked shaken at the prospect of Kyle being on his own in the sea. Kyle had to admit he didn't have a clue, although he didn't want to show any sign of wavering in front of his parents, who were still yelling and screaming in the background. He didn't belong with his own kind any longer, and he _couldn't_ live on land, no matter how desperately he ached to feel sand under his...his feet?...and to be able to run into Eric's arms again.

His parents had always made ridiculous demands of him and Ike. It wasn't enough that they were expected to rule an entire kingdom, but Gerald and Sheila also insisted they have secondary vocations as well. Kyle was to follow in his father's wake and become a lawyer in order to excel at resolving disputes and upholding the law, while Ike was already being primed for his studies in healing and medicine, likely only so his parents had bragging rights for having a doctor and another lawyer in the royal family.

Or at least they would have until Kyle fucked up all of their careful planning.

"I don't know what I'll do, but I can't stay here," Kyle whispered into Ike's dark hair, and the other boy nodded sadly, still holding onto Kyle tight with the tip of his tail twitching in agitation.

Kyle supposed he could find a cave far, far away and steal or scavenge for food, but he couldn't tell an edible plant from a poisonous one and didn't know the first thing about hunting. All of their meals and needs were handled by the castle staff and servants so Ike and Kyle could focus all of their time on studying and training. Kyle had his own rooms at the castle, but he vastly preferred his small, dark cave with its human treasures and quiet solitude so he didn't lose his mind having to maintain his princely dignity or whatever every single minute. He knew he wouldn't even be able to return there to grab his things, lest his parents apprehend him and throw him in a cell for his own "protection."

"Listen," Ike said quietly, flicking a gaze in their parents' direction who were starting to look resolved in a way that didn't bode well for Kyle. "If you're really serious about being with your human-"

"Eric," Kyle corrected firmly, almost unable keep from tacking on a longing sigh to the name.

"Right. Eric. If you really want to see him again, there are...rumors. About the sea witch. I've heard merfolk say the witch could do things that would allow you to see him again, but it's really dangerous, Kyle."

"I don't care. Anything is better than staying here and forced to be someone I'm not. Our parents don't care if we're happy so long as we fit into their mold of being the perfect children!"

Ike looked up at him sadly with his grey-blue eyes, looking as trapped as Kyle felt. "I'm really going to miss you, big brother."

Kyle gave Ike a swift, hard hug, choking back tears. "I'm going to miss you so much, Ike..."

"Kyle! Are you even listening to us? Go to your room to wait for your punishment there, once we figure out what on earth to do with you. Circe and Neptune will escort you there."

The dolphins reappeared at Kyle's side at some silent command, nudging the two brothers apart. Kyle briefly considered making a break for the front doors, but he was exhausted from lack of sleep due to watching over Eric the entire night, and there was no way he would be able to out swim two dolphins who were bred for battle. Ike reached out for his hand and Kyle reached back on reflex until Neptune bodily inserted himself between them. Kyle's fingers closed around a thin metal object before pulling away, and he put the item into his satchel without looking at what Ike had passed to him while the dolphins were briefly obscuring them from view.

Kyle was hustled down a side corridor that branched off from the throne room, where they were joined by a handful of guards with bulging muscles and stern faces, as if Kyle were any sort of threat at all. They deposited him into his room rather than the dungeons, which he supposed he should be grateful for, but the castle was just a different kind of prison for him.

The lock to his door clicked closed behind him, only accessible from the outside so that he had no way of getting out. His room was pristine and expertly designed with large windows, a massive canopied bed, and gold gilding all over everything. The room completely lacked any personality or even more than a handful of Kyle's own possessions. He honestly couldn't think of the last time he'd actually slept there, but the draw of his bed was too irresistible, and Kyle was weighted down with exhaustion and misery.

He grabbed an overstuffed pillow and curled around the soft mass, aching all over for Eric and despairing that they would ever see each other again, before he fell into a deep sleep plagued with dreams of lightning, razor sharp teeth, and scared, brown eyes that closed and never opened again.

* * *

When Kyle woke, groggy and disoriented, he had no idea what time it was, since the castle was so far underwater that sunlight couldn't possibly penetrate the depths. The view outside of his window remained the same dark blue-black as it was every single day with only the occasional tropical fish swimming past to break up the monotony.

No one had come in to wake him for his hearing or trial, or whatever intimidating title his parents were putting on his punishment to ensure the populace knew the king and queen were taking Kyle's crimes very seriously and that he would be punished just like anyone else. Normally he would expect a slap on the wrist and extra lessons, and perhaps an additional guard or two to make certain he didn't venture where he didn't belong for a while. But Kyle had never fucked up so spectacularly before and his parents had been more furious than he'd ever seen, so likely all bets were off.

He wasn't sorry for saving Eric - how could he be? But he did regret that his little brother had been caught in the crossfire and left to clean up Kyle's mess and attempt to placate their parents. Ike wasn't even his real brother, or at least by blood, since the younger adopted mer was family in every other way that mattered, and more sane than the rest of them combined.

Thinking about Ike recalled the exchange they had made earlier before Neptune and Circe had herded him away, and Kyle lunged for his satchel at the foot of his bed, glad he had remembered to take it off before passing out, lest he inadvertently strangle himself in his sleep with the strap.

All he had in the clamshell bag were a few sand dollars, now pulverized - likely from the hit he'd taken from the first shark, if the mottling of bruises forming across his midsection was anything to go by - and odds and ends that he tended to collect on his journeys to the surface. There was also a metal stick about as long as his hand that had several smaller tines on the end of one side that Kyle definitely knew hadn't been in the bag before. But why on earth would Ike give him a _dinglehopper_ of all things?

If Kyle's situation had been less serious, then he would have taken it as Ike's poor idea of a joke. Kyle used the dinglehopper as a comb whenever he did decide to brush his hair, since the widely spaced points were less likely to snag on his unmanageable curls. Kyle was about to throw the dinglehopper in a fit of frustration when he noticed the tines were curled oddly. The first and third tines were curled down into half-spirals with a single one remaining upright. Kyle stared at the utensil in confusion, until realization started to fall into place.

Years ago Kyle had smuggled a tiny wooden chest from a shipwreck before the sea witch had gotten wind of the sunken vessel and had come sniffing around the place. There were several larger chests, but much too heavy for the merprince to carry on his own, so Kyle had only taken the one. He had spent weeks poking and prodding at the lock, attempting to open the chest as he tried everything from bashing a rock against the lock to coaxing tiny fish into keyhole to maneuver the tumblers, but it was so rusted that they would not give.

It was Ike's idea to use a thin piece of metal to jimmy the lock, actually demonstrating the ability to pick a lock with suspicious ease. Ike claimed he'd never had interactions with humans before, but he had his own small trove of sketchy human-made artifacts that were particularly helpful for breaking into places or pulling off elaborate pranks.

Inside the chest was a breathtaking drawing of a human woman and a young boy, which regretfully dissolved within days, but Kyle never forgot how unbelievably talented the human artist was, and wished to see more renderings since art pieces for mer was usually limited into fine jewelry and accessories that Kyle had no use for, or mosaics made from colorful stones that couldn't possibly capture so much emotion and detail. There was also a compass that swung wildly in all directions until the waterlogged contraption finally stilled on a direction somewhere northwest, and hadn't moved since.

There were also a few coins and precious gems that Kyle had little use for when they had caverns dedicated to mounds and mounds of treasure, but the most valuable item of note hadn't been in the box itself, but Ike showing him the trick with the lock pick, which Kyle made him explain and demonstrate until Kyle was somewhat proficient himself, although he didn't have many occasions for breaking and entering after that day.

He wasted little time, hunching over the lock and working the thin metal sliver of the single raised tine into the keyhole. He was more rusty than he'd thought, and had to pause to force the tine straight after he'd shoved too hard with building impatience and desperation, bending the metal in the process. He let out a breath in a rush of bubbles when the tumbler finally gave and the lock clicked open. He bit his lip as he slowly opened the door, grateful for well-oiled hinges, and peeked out into the hallway, which was fortunately deserted.

Kyle's parents obviously didn't expect him to be able to break out of his rooms, or else the hall would have been swarmed with guards. Kyle quickly gathered his satchel, stuffing the bag with a handful of coins and a blunt knife, which was the only weapon he had at hand since making a trip to the armory would be impossible, but didn't know what else to bring on his escape. He was still-groggy from his nap, and utterly ravenous, but he didn't dare stop by the kitchens either. No, the only way he would be able to leave unseen was to just go and not look back, not even to say goodbye to Ike.

Kyle slipped through the halls and evaded passing mer with practiced ease until he was past the palace walls through the rarely-used passages he and Ike sometimes used on their illicit outings. He swam as fast as he could for the outer realms of Atlantica, not bothering to take winding routes or hiding when mer passed as he normally would when sneaking off to the surface. No one would dare to follow him once they figured out his destination, and he prayed for a good enough head start that even if someone decided to alert his parents, Kyle would be long gone by then.

Kyle's energy flagged quickly once the adrenaline that came with his escape faded, but he didn't stop even when he could no longer see the towering golden spires of the castle that Ike swore looked like giant dicks. Still, he never stopped moving, even when he began to weave with drunken exhaustion and didn't even know where he was going any longer.

He stumbled upon the sea witch's territory purely by chance after he ran headfirst into a bone-white face with ghastly hollows for eyes, and nearly swallowed his tongue as he bit back a scream that woke him right the hell up and made him take stock of his surroundings. The sea witch's cave was dark and foreboding with the entryway decorated with sickly, twisting seaweed that wrapped itself around the bones of human skeletons that guarded the entryway like sentinels. There were bone fragments from human, mer, and sea creatures alike that littered the barren grounds like the most unwelcoming and fucked up yard decorations he'd ever seen.

Kyle was definitely having second and third thoughts now that he was actually there, but he couldn't turn back now. He had no where else to go, not with the memory of Eric's peacefully sleeping face burned into his heart to galvanize him. Nothing stopped him as he slowly swam into the ominously dark mouth of the cave, feeling hair prickle at the base of his neck as if he were being watched. He was extra careful not to touch anything, not even the slick, mossy walls that glowed faintly from some sort of luminescent algae Kyle had never seen before.

Something moved in the water next to him, and darted away when he gave high-pitched shriek, which cut off abruptly when he heard a low growl and an annoyed voice call out, "You can quit lurking in my doorway like a fucking creeper and come in already."

Kyle was shaking from head to tail, but he braced himself and straightened with a confidence he didn't feel, not knowing what to expect or whether he would even leave the cave with his soul or sanity intact.

The sea witch was lounging upon a throne made of more human bones, stacked intricately and looking immensely uncomfortable, but the sea witch seemed perfectly at ease as he pierced Kyle with dark blue eyes that shone with a mysterious inner light. The claustrophobic entryway opened into a spacious cavern, filled with even more curious oddities than Kyle's own cave. Ghastly green light came from incandescent bubbles that appeared solid and stuck to the walls, making the shadows look stark and threatening.

The sea witch himself was fairly unremarkable with pale skin and dark hair, and actually didn't look much older than Kyle, except his lower half was that of a large octopus with long black tentacles and purple suckers draped artfully over the sides of the garish throne. He was holding a golden trident that looked like the overgrown dinglehopper Kyle had in his satchel, the spear ending in three wicked points that the merman seriously wished he had when he was busy fighting off sharks yesterday.

A pair of eels circled the witch slowly with their bright yellow eyes fixed unnervingly on Kyle.

"Kyle Broflovski," the sea witch purred, and the mer jumped, tucking his tail in close to him to hide the way it trembled.

"H-How do you know my name?" Kyle asked, his tone high and suspicious as he wrapped his arms defensively around his bare torso. His eyes darted around the cave, too afraid to look directly at the sea witch, lest he turn to stone or something.

"I know of everyone in that gods-forsaken castle of yours. Oh yes, little princeling," he bared his teeth in a dangerous grin at Kyle's startled look. "Your family and I have a long history. Your father banished me before you were even born when I refused to stop hunting humans. I can't help that they taste like chicken."

The sea witch's tongue trailed over his bottom lip as he looked Kyle up and down suggestively. "I doubt your parents taint their halls with utterances of my name any longer, but you can call me Craig."

Kyle didn't want to find out if Craig thought mermen tasted like those squawking land birds, too, from the way he was eyeing him. He wished he'd grabbed something more substantial than a tiny knife that wouldn't cut through seaweed before he'd left in such a hurry without even a game plan, but Craig had magic and Kyle doubted hurtling blunted metal at him would do more than piss him off.

"What did you come here for?" Craig asked shortly, apparently tired of small talk and getting right to the point.

Kyle hesitated, but he doubted Craig would have a worse reaction than his parents had. "There's this guy...a human? I really. I really want to see him again, and I can't go back home. My parents completely lost their shit, when they found out… So I'm, well, kind of banished too, I guess."

Technically Kyle had banished himself, but between being alone and free or with his family and essentially imprisoned for the rest of his life, he really didn't have much of a choice at all.

"Hmmm." Craig twirled the trident in his hand and stared at Kyle intently as the mer shifted uncomfortably under the other's scrutiny. "I would turn you into human yourself just for the look on your parents' faces."

"You can actually turn me human?" Kyle gasped in astonishment, hope and uncertainty warring in his voice.

"Yeeeep," Craig drawled, popping the last 'p' as he waved his tentacles lazily around him, occasionally brushing against one of the eels that darted in and out through the twisting appendages. There was a sleek, black eel that snapped up pesky little fish that ventured too close, and a lighter-colored electric eel that looked frazzled from its spontaneous discharges - which would more often than not end up zapping itself.

"But it's not for free," Craig continued, before Kyle could get his hopes up.

"I don't have much..." Kyle hedged, wracking his brain for anything he had that would be of any worth. His satchel felt painfully insubstantial with its handful of coins, and too many of his kind considered the humans' treasures he collected to be useless junk, even if he dared to return to his cave to grab anything. "I could maybe pay in installments?"

"Yeah, no," Craig snorted, a few of his tentacles making an obscene gesture at Kyle, before he added blandly, "But I'll take your left testicle as a down payment."

Kyle choked, startling the electric eel that had drifted too close to him, and he yelped when the creature gave them both a nasty shock, making his hair stand on end.

"Are you fucking serious?" Kyle exclaimed incredulously as he tried to shake off the painful prickling running along his scales from the eel's jolt and Craig's proclamation. He already felt his retracted balls trying to turn themselves inside out in self-preservation.

Craig looked at him blandly for so long that Kyle could almost feel a cold sweat prickle over his skin, if only for the fact he was already completely submerged in water, and couldn't possibly get any wetter.

"Nah, I've already got more balls than I know what to do with." Craig had such a relentless poker face that Kyle couldn't tell if the sea witch was joking or not.

"Then what?" Kyle snapped. He was starting to become irritated with the delays. Every passing second took him further and further away from the handsome man he had rescued from the shipwreck and left on a beach out there.

Despite all of the stories Kyle had heard about merfolk enchanting sailors and luring them to their deaths, Kyle himself been completely enthralled by Prince Eric and their brief time together. Kyle longed to hold and kiss him again, but instead had to flee back to the sea when he had heard other humans approaching before he'd even gotten the chance to tell the man his name, terrified and elated in equal measures.

Craig looked at him in consideration, his dark eyes unreadable, and then he snapped his fingers and a small, wooden chest appeared in his palm after a bright flare of golden light lit up from the trident.

"You open this box, you turn human. However, in exchange you will lose everything that makes you a merman - your fins, the sea, and...your voice."

Kyle gaped, temporarily struck speechless as if he'd already agreed to Craig's insane conditions. He could understand and had already prepared himself for the first two stipulations, however...

"But...but why my voice?" he protested once he could get his vocal chords to work again. "I'll have to talk to the prince so I can explain who I am!"

"A mer's voice is its most powerful weapon. You can ensorcell humans and cause them to run their vessels aground and throw themselves upon the reefs with a single note if you wanted to. You'll never know if this human truly loves you in return if he's enchanted by your voice."

Kyle swallowed hard, unable to refute the witch's logic, but hating the idea of being so helpless on dry land.

"Fine," he croaked after a long deliberation, feeling pale and sick at the idea, but determined to find the prince again no matter the cost. "I'll do it."

Craig held out the box towards Kyle, but when the merman reached to take it, a thick black tentacle shot out and latched onto his wrist painfully. "I almost forgot," Craig said over a yawn, propping his head onto his fist and staring down Kyle through half-lidded eyes, "the fine print. You have three days to fuck your human, or you turn into an eel."

"WHAT?!"

"Yeah. So, if you can't manage to get it up, you lose your voice forever and end up like Clyde here." Craig nodded his chin towards a listless eel at his shoulder that Kyle hadn't noticed earlier, noting that this eel did indeed only have one testicle.

Craig shrugged a shoulder at Kyle's dismayed expression. "We used to date."

Kyle tore his hand out of Craig's tentacle, feeling his skin crawl at the unexpectedly smooth and cool texture as the appendage slid over his wrist, releasing him. He clutched his hand against his chest and stared at Clyde, who looked balefully ahead at nothing. Uncertainty raced through his brain as Craig tapped his nails impatiently on a skull that was set into the arm of his gruesome chair.

"Tick tock," Craig intoned with a yawn, and Kyle's heart raced, looking between the box and Craig's eels, which were drifting closer and closer to him, making Kyle feel claustrophobic. He startled when something grazed his hip, and he glanced up at Craig when the tentacle brushed along his flank more than a little suggestively. "Unless you'd like to offer a _different_ sort of payment?"

Kyle yelped and moved out of Craig's reach, heat suffusing his face as a flash of horror shot through him. He had no doubt Craig knew how to do extremely creative things with his tentacles and Kyle couldn't help a brief moment of curiosity tainted with a hint of arousal at the thought before it was quickly smothered. He'd never even been with another mer before, and now he was expected to have sex with a human in less than three days?

His situation felt even more hopeless by the minute, but when would he ever get the chance like this again?

With shaking hands, he reached out for the box and snatched it from Craig's open palm before the witch could grab him, although the other's tentacles remained floating placidly in the water, and Craig just looked bored now.

"Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind and eat you, Broflovski."

Kyle didn't need to be told twice.


	3. Chapter 3

Craig snapped his fingers after he was certain Kyle was gone, and his vision was temporarily obscured by a blinding flash of light that filled the cavern. When the light faded, three merman appeared where the eels had once been. The tallest of the lot, Token, a strong, dark-skinned mer with silvery scales covering his tail, reached out to bump Craig's raised fist with a smirk.

"Nice one, Craig. Although I kinda feel bad for the poor sap. Falling in love with a human? Sheesh."

"Y-Yeah. Can you -gah!- imagine what Kyle's m-mom is going to say?" the smaller blond chimed in with a dramatic shiver that wasn't at all feigned.

Tweek was a twitchy merman with hair that stuck straight out in all directions and a dull gold tail which jerked in uncontrolled bursts and caused him to shoot around the place at any given moment. Tweek knew he wasn't allowed anywhere near Craig's valuables, which made him all the more skittish seeing as the décor was made up of breakables that included glass potion bottles lining the wall on shelves all the way down to the delicate pottery on the ground crafted from human hands, often containing volatile and explosive ingredients.

They all grimaced at the thought of Sheila finding out that Kyle wanted to become human, except for a third merman, who had messy brown hair and a petulant expression. He had his arms crossed stonily over his chest and was pointedly not looking at Craig, who only grinned and looked predatory as he sidled up to him. Craig wrapped tentacles around the mer's hips as he nuzzled his nose against the other's bare neck, unfazed when Clyde squirmed and tried to pull away from Craig's hold.

"Ohh, someone's pissy," Craig crooned mockingly, not even giving Clyde an inch as his tentacles slid in an overly-familiar manner over his broad chest and the curves of his ruby-red fish tail.

"I don't know why you have to tell people that stupid story about my balls, Craig!" Clyde burst out, his cheeks flushing in humiliation.

"Because it's fuckin' funny."

"It is not! You know damn well I was born with only one testicle!"

Craig nipped at Clyde's jaw unrepentantly. "I could take the other one for you, if it'll make you feel better." A tentacle slipped downward suggestively, and the two other mermen quickly found somewhere else to be.

"No one is going to be intimidated if they knew you were just 'born that way', Clyde. It's fucking theatrics. People that come here have expectations and want their money's worth."

"Yeah, but now Kyle thinks he's going to turn into an eel if he doesn't fuck a human!"

Craig shrugged. "So what? He'll figure things out pretty quickly when he stays human after just kissing the guy as long as the prince loves him back, and the worse that'll happen is he gets laid."

"Or turns back into a merman and loses the love of his life forever. That's pretty terrible, Craig."

"Sure, but at least he'll keep his balls."

"Y'know, Token told me octopuses mate by ripping off their dicks and throwing it at the female to fuck herself with," Clyde countered dryly, tugging at one of Craig's wandering tentacles in an implied threat.

"Token is lucky I don't turn him into a sea slug. And it's octopi, dipshit."

Craig's tentacles had been moving continuously over Clyde's stockier body, gradually drawing them both towards the deepest section of the cave Craig normally resided in, while Token and Tweek presumably kept guard outside.

Craig had a few unhappy customers in his time, and had somehow ended up with the trio as hired protection years ago, even though - with the exception of Token, who was a badass motherfucker when he wanted to be - they were basically pretty useless ornaments. Tweek was effective in a blackout, and knew where to find the best sea weed, but he was a menace to himself and everyone else around him. Token was actually rather protective of the tweaked-out mer, and seemed indifferent to Tweek's electrical discharges as an eel. Clyde, on the other hand, was prettier than he was smart, but he was also fun to rile up and a fucking good lay besides.

Speaking of which…

Craig interrupted Clyde's protests with soft, nipping kisses to his neck and wide shoulders, grinning to himself smugly when a tentacle slid around Clyde's waist and pressed at a spot that made Clyde go limp in his arms with a groan of pleasure.

"You're the worst," Clyde moaned, turning in Craig's grasp and hooking his arms around Craig's shoulders as he finally gave in and let the insufferable prick pull him into his chambers.

Craig's room was lit with softly glowing blue lights suspended against the slick, rocky walls and clusters of smaller lights on the high ceiling that mimicked the humans' constellations in the night sky. There were books and potions and objects of questionable origins scattered over every surface, and Clyde knew well enough not to touch anything at that point after he'd mistaken a hallucinogenic fungi for escargot a few years back. He couldn't really remember what had happened, but Craig would always fix him with an eerily hungry expression at the mention of the incident and refuse to tell him.

Clyde was predictably easy once Craig had gentled his usual protests with lingering kisses and the soft, continuous stroking of hands and tentacles alike. He grudgingly allowed Craig to pull him down into his nest of smooth and rounded pebbles and gems, some of which were just plain rocks, but others were priceless jewels nearly as big as Clyde's head. Craig thankfully kept the dead bodies limited to his front door and showing room, although there were a few necklaces made up of polished bone hanging on a peg near his door.

The sea witch played and twanged along Clyde's body like a familiar instrument, trailing fingertips over shoulders that had filled out and strengthened over the years from hauling loads of treasure from sunken ships, despite the fact Craig could transport it all with a wave of his trident; the softness of his belly that had once been rounded with the blubber of youth now flattened with hints of muscle tone, but still retained a pleasant give when Craig rested his head there when Clyde was too tired to complain and push him off; and his gorgeous scarlet tail that had initially drawn Craig to the boy when he'd been young and awkward and eager to please, still-reeling from the loss of his mother to a whirlpool before Craig had...collected him.

Craig was carelessly and jealously possessive over his treasures - which Clyde was also considered. However, he was quickly bored and lost interest in whatever had managed to catch his attention for longer than a nanosecond until that particular object managed to make itself useful again. Clyde was caught in a vicious cycle of passion and negligence, and any complaints or demands for more of Craig's anything would cause the creature to sneer condescendingly and give him the cold shoulder until Craig's libido brought him back around. Clyde would give in every single time, no matter how many times he told himself he was done with Craig and his games.

Even so, Craig was his best friend, his love, his everything, and the thought of going back to live amongst the merfolk left him feeling sick and cold inside. Tweek and Token had left that world behind them as well for various reasons that mostly remained a mystery to Clyde, even though he would consider them friends as well. He suspected Tweek had suffered some kind of addiction or abuse and had gone to Craig for help or just to get away, as he didn't seem like the type to want revenge on whomever or whatever had left him a terrified, jittery mess even after all these years.

Although he'd never said, Token might be the only one out of the three of them to have any legit qualifications as a guard, but his mannerisms and regal bearing hinted at royalty or at least very high upper class. Why he wanted to slum it with the outcasts of mer society, Clyde didn't have the faintest clue, nor did he have the pressing urge to ask, especially at the quick, unconscious way Token's hands would go to the lethal, curved daggers at his hips like it was second nature whenever he perceived even a hint of threat.

Whatever their reasons, the four of them were a family of sorts, and family came before whatever issues he had with Craig.

Clyde was far less innocent than he'd once been, and could be a skeptical and wary sonuvabitch now after years under Craig's less than traditional guardianship and after the more physical aspects of their relationship - once Clyde had grown into that phenomenal tail, of course - had abraded his fragile little heart whenever Craig had spurned or neglected him, which was frequently. If nothing else, at least Craig hadn't taken other lovers. The Cecaelia was far more preoccupied with hunting and treasure and rare potion ingredients than with the needs of his heart, however small and blackened the organ may be.

Clyde allowed himself to be coaxed onto his back, fingers or tentacles carding through his thick brown hair, while more curled around the back of his neck and waist, easing him into an embrace as Craig covered his body with his own and pressed their lips together in a startlingly sweet kiss.

The moment Clyde's muscles relaxed and his lover became soft and complacent, Craig sprung his trap. Tentacles lashed around Clyde's wrists and held them pinned above his head as Craig swarmed over him, holding Clyde's body down effortlessly with deceptive strength. Clyde's tail lashed in a useless struggle as he shouted and strained against the unyielding restraints. Clyde would be covered in small spots all over from the purple suckers on the underside of Craig's tentacles - just one more way Craig would display his ownership and shameless delight in debasing Clyde.

"Shhh, baby. I got you," Craig crooned, his grin wide and malicious as Clyde flushed prettily beneath him, giving Craig a good ride as he tried to throw him off. Craig considered waiting until Clyde tired himself out - which he inevitably would in a few moments - but he liked his mermen frisky.

Craig flicked a tentacle against Clyde's nipple, and was gratified at how quickly the mer responded. The slim, pink tip of his cock slid from its hidden slit a handspan below Clyde's navel, and an inch or two below that was a second opening to receive whatever appendage Craig felt like sticking into him at the moment.

Craig had conditioned Clyde's reaction to having his nipples toyed with when he was still a young, impressionable mer. Generally speaking, mermen had to make a concerted effort to unsheathe their cocks so a bunch of 'em weren't swimming around with their metaphorical spears held at attention, ready to take out someone's eye. However, teenaged mer had less practice at control - ergo spontaneous, public boners did happen on occasion, to the eternal mortification of every creature involved.

Clyde had been wonderfully sensitive and self-conscious as a teen, and Craig would task him with various chores while rubbing fingers or tentacles against his chest mercilessly and refusing to allow Clyde to take himself in hand or hide in reprieve. Craig moved in eerie silence when he wanted to, with his dark hair and tentacles blending seamlessly into shadows. He could also squeeze through impossibly narrow passages and cracks in the walls and change his form at will, if he was feeling particularly creative with his various tortures and wanted to give Clyde an eternal terror of clownfish or something equally mundane.

Craig lowered his mouth to Clyde's chest, sucking soft bruises along his collarbones and down his sternum, unsticking a tentacle with a soft 'pop' and quickly easing the sting with his tongue as Clyde's dark nipple plumped up with a lovely bruise.

Clyde mewled helplessly, his fingers clawing at nothing as they tried to rip away the tentacles holding his wrists and the rest of his upper body stationary. "D-Damnit, Craig," Clyde moaned, misery and desire thickening his voice as his protests became weaker and weaker until they vanished entirely and the mer slumped in defeat, giving himself up to Craig's violation of his body.

Clyde could be as reciprocating and affectionate as any lover could hope for whenever Craig spared even half a second to be nice to him, or at least not entirely horrible, and often sought the sea witch out just for his company on their good days together. He appreciated Craig's dry humor and quick wit when he wasn't turning his "charms" cruelly against Clyde. Craig was endlessly fascinating from all of his experience and travels, which he rarely discussed, but often brought back small, thoughtful gifts for the mermen when he returned from solo excursions, and seemed to appreciate Clyde's company even when he wanted to sit in silence and do nothing at all.

Craig rewarded his compliance with a lingering, close-mouthed kiss that Clyde tipped his chin up to receive once Craig let up on his nipples and lowered himself to press his belly along the turgid length of Clyde's cock. Clyde quivered with the effort not to thrust against Craig without his say-so, and Craig hummed in approval as he curled his fingers into Clyde's hair, his tentacles slipping away from Clyde's wrists when Clyde's mouth opened obediently underneath Craig's aggressive tongue.

Once his hands were released, Clyde wrapped his arms around Craig's slender waist and applied his not-insignificant strength into flipping them over, using his body to hold the slippery mass of Craig's down beneath him without separating their mouths for a moment. Craig dug his sharp nails warningly into Clyde's shoulders, before becoming distracted and stroking his fingers down his strong arms, squeezing the flexing muscles there.

Tentacles helpfully reached up and eased their bodies together when either refused to break the kiss. Clyde hissed softly against Craig's lips when one rubbery arm curled around the base of his cock and pulled him into whatever smooth, tight channel Craig had hidden beneath the swarm of tentacles that usually intimidated Clyde away from any deep-sea explorations in certain uncharted territories. He held still until the tentacle gave him a bracing squeeze and then moved away to join the others curling around Clyde's upper arms, back, and hips to urge him forward.

Both of them gasped simultaneously when Clyde penetrated a fleshy orifice, his hands digging into the rocks by Craig's head as he bowed over him and thrust again and again. Clyde bared his teeth in a rictus of a snarl as he gave into anger and frustration and goddamned love the only way he could when the sea witch owned him body, heart, and soul without even so much as a contract.

Craig still managed to look irritatingly smug and had the audacity to yawn right in Clyde's face after a few minutes of rather aggressive thrusting on Clyde's part. Craig's mind visibly wandered as he laid there and drew idle patterns in the churning water around them with the tips of his tentacles using meticulously controlled jets of ink. For all Clyde knew, he was writing a spell or coordinates to sunken treasure or a freaking grocery list right over Clyde's head, the ink streaking his hair and skin black if he accidentally moved into the indecipherable characters floating next to him and smudged Craig's writing until the water carried the words away.

Clyde frowned churlishly and bowed his head as he fucked forward hard enough to nearly topple Craig out of the nest. Craig grabbed at his shoulders with a delighted laugh that quickly dissolved into a pleased sigh when Clyde bit viciously at the pale column of Craig's neck, leaving his own sucking marks that would no likely match the ones on his ribs after Craig unstuck the tentacles currently attempting to squeeze the life out of him.

"Still bored?" Clyde panted in challenge, his mouth brushing against Craig's chin as the sea witch's eyes shot open into narrowed slits to fix on his own brown ones, the dark blue of them blown out by his pupils.

"Fuck yes," Craig replied, before he heaved them both up and slammed Clyde onto his back.

Clyde's dick popped out, coated with slick, purple-tinged slime that dripped down onto his testicle. Thankfully, as a mer, Clyde's testicle was internal until he was at full hardness, and only then was the single ball visible. Craig wrapped a hand - a real, normal hand for once - around him, and jerked him with quick, precise strokes. Craig bit down on the tip of his tongue in concentration as he watched Clyde arch and writhe beneath him until he cried out and grabbed at Craig's wrist. Tentacles caught and drew Clyde's arms back above his head at the same time a single tentacle snuck over his hip to probe at the slit just below Craig's hand and Clyde's leaking cock.

It took Clyde a moment to realize the tentacle wasn't attached to anything, and Clyde's look of horror was met with Craig's cocky grin.

"Well, Token wasn't wrong."

"Sto-aahh-p! Craig, oh fuck!" Clyde stuttered and panted as the tip of Craig's detached…cock?...probed at the nearly invisible opening below his own protruding but firmly connected dick.

Clyde sucked in a sharp breath when the tip of the appendage breached him, wriggling and teasing at his opening until he was open-mouthed and panting.

"Look at you so pretty and fucked out beneath me, Clyde," Craig murmured, brushing his lips against Clyde's jaw as the tentacle slipped deeper inside. "I am going to take you apart and put you back together broken just because I can. Do you know why?"

Clyde shuddered as Craig's tongue traced the rim of his ear, and he shook his head, turning his face to the side to breathe through his mouth like he'd forgotten he had gills to do that for him. Clyde felt the warm tip of Craig's tongue catch the sharp, fluttering edge of the gills on the side of his neck and probe into the vulnerable space between, and Clyde felt a moment of true breathlessness then as one of his main airways was blocked, catching him on the edge of blacking out.

"Because you're mine," Craig hissed, the motion of his reproductive organ driving full-force into Clyde shocking the merman back into violent awareness.

"Ahhhhh! Craig!" Clyde shouted, jerking against the tentacles and hands holding him down as the prehensile limb worked into him deeper and deeper until Clyde was sobbing too incoherently to protest.

A second tentacle joined the cock burrowing into him when Craig moved to drop himself over Clyde's hips, tracing the edge of Clyde's rectum and making the stretch nearly unbearable. Craig didn't let up for a moment, his hand guiding Clyde's dick into whatever secret place made him gasp and shudder when Craig's body sucked him in and squeezed around him.

Craig removed his hand so Clyde was in him to the hilt and raked furrows down his chest with razor sharp nails while he fucked and was fucked in return. Craig had left Clyde hips free to move as they would, and he speared himself down upon him the same time two other limbs pounded into Clyde, instantly overloading the mer with triple sensations to the point where he could only writhe helplessly and let himself be used, overwhelmed by pain and burning pleasure.

Craig rode him like a professional, his face intense but wiped of all expression, save for the color that rose high on his cheeks as he ground himself against Clyde in tight, undulating circles. Sparks of sensation shot up into his lower belly and pooled at the base of his spine, urging him forward and down and to take what belonged to him.

Clyde was gaping up at him, insensate and delirious, until his eyes rolled back in his head and came with a nearly feral scream that was cut short when something inside Craig gripped him and essentially sucked the semen straight from his cock, taking most of Clyde's brains as well.

Craig's nails dug painfully into Clyde's chest, drawing blood, as he glared at a fixed point next to Clyde's ear and shuddered through his own orgasm in clenched-teeth silence. His face probably looked murderous to anyone else, but Clyde knew from past experiences that Craig just hated to be vulnerable, no matter how good giving in and letting go felt sometimes.

Craig bowed his head in a partial slump when the last of the tremors faded, licking away the furrows of blood from Clyde's heaving chest before salt water could wash the fluid away. Clyde panted like a race-seahorse and groaned when the tentacle-dick dropped with a wet 'plop' out of him and crawled away. Clyde was very careful not to watch where the organ wandered off to as he collapsed bonelessly into the nest and winced when a sharp-edged diamond or ruby dug into his side. Clyde rarely slept in Craig's room because the sea witch was an enormous fucking weirdo and had the most uncomfortable bed ever, but he was quick to curl around Craig when he had feeling in his limbs again, taking advantage of Craig's own exhaustion to cuddle.

"Token said octopuses die after mating like that," Clyde muttered anxiously into the top of Craig's head when the other tucked himself under his chin with a surprisingly lack of argument. Clyde's body began to tense again, but this time in concern.

"Fucking Token, I swear. You're not allowed to talk to that goddamn instigator anymore," Craig scowled, tracing idle patterns around the tiny wounds his nails had made like connect-the-dots. "I haven't died from fucking you yet, dipshit, because I'm not actually an octopus."

"Wha-?"

Craig waved his hand and suddenly the barrage of tentacles disappeared, replaced by a single, amethyst fish tail. Clyde scrambled upright and gaped at Craig, who crossed his arms defensively over his skinny chest and looked away, flushing very slightly as he tucked his tail underneath himself, not exactly hidden from view.

"So I'm not gonna die, okay?" Craig ground out through clenched teeth, not giving Clyde a chance to answer before he gestured again and the familiar black and purple tentacles were back. Craig could see the questions building up and ready to fall from Clyde's lips, and he pointed a finger in his face with a sharp, "No," heading that bullshit off right there.

"But Craig! You're a mer!"

"You shut your filthy fucking mouth, Clyde, or I swear to Hades I will leave you as an eel for the rest of your pathetic life! And don't even think about telling those other two assholes. I oughta just turn the bunch of you into house plants and be done with it..." Craig grumbled, hissing angrily when Clyde threw arms around him and squeezed him until his ribs ached, but he only put up a token protest and tucked in grumpily next to Clyde when the idiot came to his senses and eased off enough to let Craig breathe.

Craig dropped his head back against Clyde's shoulder, and stewed in the comfortable silence as he listened for their heartbeats to return to normal. Theirs was a tumultuous relationship that was constantly switching between hot and cold because Clyde was a sensitive motherfucker and Craig was an insensitive douchebag, but the sex was always, always good, and Craig didn't have the patience or desire for anyone else. He'd been around for more years than even the oldest living mer, which he attributed to the ample use of magic and consumption of human flesh to keep himself young.

There was a myth in human culture that if a person were to eat even a sliver of mermaid or merman flesh they would achieve immortality - hence the many years of battle between men and mer that resulted in a bloody history of trans-species cannibalism. Although there was no such thing as immortality, there had been an undeniable extension of mortal lifespans over the years, which could be purely coincidental, however, humans were now living nearly to a century in age, especially the ones near coastal areas where merfolk were said to have been spotted.

Merfolk had naturally long lifespans and even longer memories, and were vicious predators in their own right despite their beauty. After the deaths of the former queen and king before Sheila and Gerald Broflovski had taken over, the mer couldn't afford to lose any more of their dwindling numbers. They were forced to relocate and were restricted from making any contact with humans in order to make them harder to find and less easily hunted.

Craig had no such qualms and hunted the stupid two-legged dickbags all over the world with regularity, shifting his form to selkie to kappa to kelpie - whatever terror was a favorite of the region he was visiting at the time when he had the munchies, although he preferred his half-cephalopod form the rest of the time. And from the way Clyde was completely exhausted and fucked out beneath him, he enjoyed this particular form as well.

Craig was relatively certain his dick would grow back, but he could feel his body shifting and changing even now, and knew a missing organ or two was going to be the least of his problems for a while.

"I feel pregnant," Craig said as he ran a hand down his flat belly, almost bemused.

There was dead silence for a beat, followed by a sound like dark matter being sucked into a wormhole above him, and Craig had to wonder if Clyde legitimately managed to swallow his own tongue. He didn't get a chance to find out as he was suddenly and rudely expulsed from his comfortable resting place when Clyde jackknifed into an upright position so fast he dislodged Craig and several rocks and gems, sending the stones flying and Craig nearly tumbling over the raised edges of the nest.

"W-What?!" Clyde yelled when he was capable of coherent speech. "What the fuck, Craig!"

Craig didn't bother biting back a snicker at the look of shocked disbelief on Clyde's face, pale and drained of color. He reached over and grabbed Clyde's hand, pressing his rough, calloused palm against his stomach where his own had been, even though he knew Clyde wouldn't be able to feel anything yet. The gesture was more symbolic than anything, considering Craig had only conceived moments ago.

"Congratulations. You stuck your dick in me and got me pregnant. I'm sure the offspring will be delicious."

Clyde blanched, tearing his hand away from Craig's stomach like he'd been burned, even though the mer didn't have a clue what fire even was.

"You can't eat our babies, Craig! What is wrong with you? How did you even get pregnant in the first place? We're both male!" Clyde looked so panicked and seconds away from a complete meltdown that Craig couldn't help but curl a tentacle against his flushed cheek that was already starting to redden in anger.

"Chill the fuck out. I'm not gonna eat them. I've been storing your jizz up for a while since it takes you for-freaking-ever to make enough with only one testicle, and I figured now was a good enough time as any to fertilize my eggs. Also, I can change my form any time I want - what makes you think I can't change my dangly bits either?" Craig smirked, slow and smug as he stretched out with Clyde shifting to hover over him to keep him in sight.

"You didn't even ask me if I wanted kids!" Clyde cried plaintively, and Craig shrugged in easy dismissal.

"It's not like you'll have to raise them. Hell, I won't even have to raise them. The little brats can figure it out on their own."

"I'm not letting you have our babies fend for themselves, Craig!" Clyde's voice was getting increasingly shrill and louder every moment, and Craig allowed his grin to stretch wider, surveying Clyde's heated protests with mild affection.

He'd picked a good mate.

"Oh gods, I don't know the first thing about being a parent! My mom would die if she found out I got the sea witch knocked up!"

"Good thing she's already dead, huh?" Craig drawled, watching Clyde through narrowed eyes. "She was a bitch anyway."

Clyde looked outraged and actually balled up a fist to punch Craig, before apparently remembering the other creature was with child - his child - and visibly restrained himself.

"You're such an asshole," Clyde whined, sounding on the edge of despair.

Craig didn't disagree, but he reached up with both hands and tentacles to force Clyde back down into an aggressive cuddle.

"You fucking love me, don't even front," Craig stated dryly while peppering Clyde's petulant face with kisses until the other finally gave in and reluctantly kissed him back.

"I hate you," Clyde groaned miserably, but Craig knew his heart wasn't in it, especially when Clyde rolled them over and worked a hand in between them to stroke his thumb wonderingly at the smooth skin just below Craig's navel.

"You're not just fucking with me?" Clyde asked tremulously, looking as if he didn't know if he wanted the answer to be yes or no.

"I like fucking you," Craig purred in a non-answer to be deliberately aggravating. He ran his hands over Clyde's shoulders and around to his back to pull him down against him, brushing a kiss across his lips and then his throat before burying his face there and shifting his tentacles to completely drape and wrap around Clyde like a mummy. "But I'm not fucking with you. We're going to have a baby. Or, like, ten thousand babies. Whatever."

Clyde jerked against him, and Craig silently counted backwards from five before he heard the first sniffle. Clyde was outright sobbing by the time he reached 'one.'

Craig respectfully refrained from laughing, but felt a flutter low in his belly that could have either been unfamiliar joy or his growing eggs.

Perhaps the two were even synonymous.

* * *

Craig and Clyde passed out shortly after Clyde ran out of steam - and tears - completely intertwined with Clyde's hand resting possessively over Craig's abdomen. They were rudely awakened when Tweek and Token burst into the room without any forewarning, looking equally frazzled and shouting over each other.

"O-Oh fuck, Craig, it's M-Mrs. Broflovski!"

"Shit what do we do!"

"Gah! W-We're all gonna die!"

"I thought you motherfuckers were supposed to be my goddamn body guards," Craig snapped as he sat up and shoved Clyde off him, summoning his trident which lit up at his touch, and the three mermen resumed their eel forms only to immediately dart into the nearest hiding places they could find.

"You're all getting pay cuts!" Craig shouted after them as he hurried into the main chamber, casting an invisibility illusion over his more illegal contraband before throwing himself on his throne in a forced casual lounge with the trident grasped in a white-knuckled grip in his hands. His tentacles curled and uncurled in agitation around him, belying his anxiety and no small amount of terror despite his age or abilities.

"What have you done with my son?" Queen Sheila raged, not even waiting for Craig's permission to come inside as she rattled the bottles on shelves embedded into the walls with the strength of her fury, glass smashing and igniting in brief, colorful explosions before the sea thankfully quenched the worst of the chemical reactions.

Craig grimaced and braced himself for the oncoming storm. He really should have taken Kyle's left nut after all, because Sheila was sure as hell going to castrate him after she found out what he'd done to her baby.

Once his dick grew back, anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

_/_ \- denotes flashback

* * *

In hindsight, Kyle really should have swam to the surface before opening the box.

All he could think about was Eric's face as he clutched the box to his chest and fled the sea witch's domain, the prince's expressions shifting from helpless terror to startled awe to softness in sleep, and now Kyle held the key to possibly seeing every expression Eric was capable of making in person.

Kyle barely cleared the darkened entryway of Craig's cavern before halting in the middle of the witch's garish bone yard, his trembling fingers tracing the intricate carvings of mystical beasts and runes inscribed along the edges of the small, wooden box. He didn't know how long he floated there, staring at the box as he rapidly sorted through and discarded multiple contingency plans. The first thing once he was human, obviously, would be to figure out how to use his new body and find Eric. But without his voice it wasn't like he could stand on the beach and yell until he appeared, much less ask someone for directions. He wished suddenly for the compass he had found so long ago in the chest Ike had used to teach him basic lock picking skills on the off-chance the item would perhaps work again once he was ashore and the mysterious inner workings had a chance to dry out.

There was no time to go back and retrieve the compass, though, so Kyle would have to completely wing his imitation of a human being once he was actually on land and just hope for the best. He sucked in a rejuvenating gulp of water and lifted the tiny golden latch that held the lid closed, pushing the top open before his courage faltered.

A bright golden light exploded from the box, enveloping Kyle in a warm, pulsing aura that wrapped around him from head to fin. Pleasant tingling rippled along his tail, and Kyle spared a moment of relief that the transformation would be easy enough, before he was suddenly hit with an excruciating, tearing pain from his waist down.

His first reaction was to scream, but the burning moved swiftly to his chest and he found himself suddenly unable to breathe. His lungs violently protested the reflexive inhalation of water, and in his haste Kyle had forgotten just how ill-suited human anatomy was towards surviving longer than a few minutes without actual air. Kyle should have known better than most how little time humans could hold their breath for, and that was if they had air in them to begin with, rather than water-saturated lungs. He'd had to refill Prince Eric's lungs with oxygen over and over again to keep the human alive long enough for Kyle to cut him free and bring him up to the surface, all the while fighting off a giant shark the entire time.

He never could have imagined the crushing, overpowering pain of drowning before, and he felt a twinge of remorse for not being able to extract Eric sooner. The man must have felt this exact agony like his head and chest were going to explode over and over again when Kyle could only bring him enough air to last him minutes at a time, while Eric asphyxiated repeatedly in the interludes. Kyle found the air above to be desperately dry and scorching against his throat on his infrequent visits ashore, but still breathable, especially if his fins remained submerged in the water. Last night had been the first time he'd been completely beached, and he'd been so wrapped up in Eric that he hadn't even noticed his own shortness of breath and lightheadedness that he'd likely attributed to the adrenaline spike finally crashing after he and Eric had been safe on land.

Kyle struggled to swim, kicking his fins automatically, but water just passed through them like his lower half was no longer solid. His vision grayed out until the water was an impenetrable, inky blackness around him and it was impossible to know which way was up or if anything, like a shark, could be approaching him from any side.

Kyle took in another mouthful of water when he was unexpectedly grabbed by both of his arms and hauled in a direction that he could only pray was up. Kyle was disoriented and fought desperately against the hold, which only increased the burning in his sternum into sharp, unbearable stabs of pain as his lungs revolted against the water that filled them. He couldn't see or hear or breathe. The water that had once held so much life for him was now a dark, crushing deathtrap. He'd wanted so badly to be human that he had gotten his wish and was now going to die as a human without even one last glance at the open sky or the sun or Eric again.

He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid, so blinded by love that he'd get himself killed just to defy his parents. Oh gods, he would never see them or Ike again, and he knew his family would tear themselves apart at the way they had left things between them. The fighting and running away seemed ridiculously dramatic in retrospect, but Kyle'd had to follow his stupid heart and refuse to listen to reason. Now, he would never get the chance to explain, and he knew his people would no doubt find some way to blame the humans for his death and there would be attacks and killing again all because of him. Eric would never know what had become of him, if he ever thought about Kyle at all, unless he had merely written him off as some kind of delusion caused by his near-drowning.

Kyle thrashed at idea of Eric not giving a second thought about him when he'd already given his heart and soul over to the man to the point where he'd mutilate his own body and leave everything he'd ever known behind in an instant at just the chance of seeing him again.

Kyle was certain he would explode like an over-inflated puffer fish, and clawed at his throat as one last desperate scream bubbled soundlessly out of him. His eyes rolled back into his head as his body spasmed and then went abruptly limp, hanging lifelessly between the supporting pressure on his arms. A tiny stream of bubbles passed through Kyle's slack lips, eyelids half-mast and entirely unseeing.

The moment Kyle's eyes closed completely, dismally resigning himself to his fate, either by drowning or being eaten by whatever had such an unbreakable hold on him, his head broke the surface of the water and he was slapped in the face by light, warmth, and precious, precious _air_. A hard blow caught him in the middle of the back, and Kyle retched, spluttering when splashing waves hit him in the face and went up his nose. He coughed and hacked up what felt like the entire sea for ages. His lungs felt like he'd swallowed arrowheads, and his head was screaming at him, but he was _alive._ Kyle squinted out against sun that was caught in its final burgundy and gold burst over the horizon as the day approached dusk. When he could breathe again without coughing up his insides, Kyle wilted in dismay when he realized he couldn't make out land, and he knew he was much too weak from his transformation and near-drowning to even attempt to swim.

"That was pretty stupid, you know that, right?" an unfamiliar voice came from Kyle's left, and he jerked when he realized it was another _mer_ that had taken hold of him.

He didn't recognize the merman, with his rare dark skin and dark hair and eyes, and blanched when he could only conclude that his mother's guards had found him after all. He didn't know how he was planning on bringing Kyle back to the palace when he couldn't breathe underwater, but the mer didn't say anything else as he dragged Kyle diligently towards the setting sun.

"Oh j-jeez, you could have -gah!- drowned and that would have been bad. That would have been the WORST!" a second voice piped up from Kyle's other side, and he was too wrecked and exhausted to try and figure out who the two mermen were or where they were taking him.

The three fell into silence, with Kyle trailing barely-conscious between them.

Kyle didn't know how long or how far they'd been traveling, only that it was nearly dawn judging by the lightening of the sky when the rough contact of sand and stone against his skin jostled him awake, unaware when he'd even passed out.

The hands disappeared as soon as Kyle dragged himself over gritty sand and hauled himself up onto a deserted beach, his lower half trailing uselessly behind him. He collapsed onto his side in exhaustion, only half out of the water, unused to only being able to rely on lungs rather than his gills. Every movement from his waist down sent sharp bolts of pain shooting up his spine to pulse at the base of his skull, and Kyle bit back a sob, completely helpless and in too much pain to think straight.

The day was shaping up to be bright and warm, but Kyle shivered in the shallow waters that now felt cold and unfamiliar against his sensitive new skin.

"You have three days from now to find your human, Kyle," the dark merman said, and Kyle felt something hard and angular being shoved into his hand. "So get your shit together."

"Y-Yeah. Good luck, man."

Kyle slit his eyes open just enough to see twin flashes of silver and gold disappear beneath the waves, frowning when he realized the object that had been shoved into his hand was the box that had transformed him in the first place. Why the mermen thought he needed it now, Kyle didn't have a clue. He didn't dare try and open the box again, and had the faint presence of mind to tuck the dangerous trinket into his satchel before he shuddered and shut his eyes again, unsure whether to feel relief for becoming human and making it to land without drowning in the process, or despair.

He laid there for what felt like hours, trying to gather his strength and cobble some sort of plan together beyond the whole short-sighted "become human, find Eric" goal that he'd set. His entire body felt too hot where he lay exposed to the sun, and too cold where the tide was gradually rising and the waves lapped over his body in higher and higher increments. When he turned his head he saw that his shoulder was beginning to turn a bright lobster red that stung to the touch, turning his mostly-healed wound white around the edges. He had no idea there was such a thing as too much sun - he had craved and coveted every moment in the light that he could steal, but everything that had once been familiar felt dangerous now. He could drown, he could burn, he could likely catch ill from laying on the cold wet beach like he was. Humans were terrifyingly vulnerable, Kyle was slowly beginning to realize.

He didn't dare try to attempt to use his legs again, afraid to even look at them in case they were as mangled and broken as they felt. Every time he attempted to move them he was assaulted by daggers of pain that felt like rolling across broken shards of volcanic glass. Instead, he dragged himself painstakingly up the beach, much as he had when he'd possessed a tail and was unable to simply walk, searching for shelter away from the heat and damp.

He panted and shook at the effort, his limbs trembling and threatening to deposit him face-first into the gritty sand, but he finally managed to tuck himself into a shaded hollow between two large boulders against a short cliff wall. His ungainly legs stuck out in strange angles in front of him as Kyle finally gave into curiosity and examined his brand new body.

Instead of the thick, powerful tail armored with glittering green scales he was used to, he now had two thin, gangly appendages that he was somehow supposed to balance on long enough to actually travel using them. He'd seen the ease of which the men on Eric's ship had moved around with a different sort of grace than the smooth glide of swimming. They walked comfortably even on a rolling, moving surface, and Kyle couldn't help but envy them, seeing as how he couldn't even bend his legs to crawl.

He stared down at his legs for a long time, willing them to move or do _something_. He was taken off-guard when the stumpy digit on the end of his...foot? feet? twitched. He sucked in a breath and tried to move more things down there, and he had to gawp when his legs actually bent and moved just fine. He was still anxious at the thought of trying to stand, still stinging from the attempt at moving them at all. He was only getting more tired and weaker by the minute, and if he didn't try to move now, he would never get up at all.

Kyle groaned as he shifted onto his hands and braced himself on the knobby points where his legs bent backward. He knelt there completely stuck on how to move next. He recalled humans making a seesaw motion to propel themselves forward when they were walking, and after a few stumbling tries he managed to lift a bent leg and move the limb forward, alternating with the other one and using his hands to keep himself from pitching over. He managed to move a few shuffling feet in one direction until the skin of his palms and legs were scraped raw by the sand and sharp little rocks and bits of shell that made up the ground beneath him.

He managed to figure out how to turn around and tuck himself back into his little enclave to recover from the exertion. His tongue felt tacky and his throat seemed convinced that he had swallowed handfuls of sand at some point, and contracted painfully when he stared out into the blue water. He didn't know what was wrong with his mouth and couldn't fathom the intense urge to stick his whole head into the sea and suck in as much water as possible, which was insane considering he had nearly drowned that very day.

The thought hounded him for the rest of the day, until he could no longer resist the glittering draw of the waves and made a shuffling crawl to the water's edge.

He gathered up a handful of water and brought it to his lips, opening his mouth wide and scooping the sea water into his mouth. Kyle blanched at once and spit the water out with a grimace of revulsion. The water tasted _terrible_ , like he'd shoved an entire salt deposit wrapped in rancid seaweed into his mouth. He spit again and moved away from the water like he'd been betrayed. Had his taste buds changed too? Being human was harder and more confusing than he'd ever imagined, and there were so many different pains and discomforts that he couldn't even begin to identify their sources at all. His mouth tasted sour and quickly became even drier than before, but he didn't know how to remedy that aching yearning, nor the pinching twist of hunger in his belly, or the cramps that gripped him in his lower stomach that usually indicated he needed to void his bowels. Kyle didn't know where his openings or exits were in his lower body any longer, and he didn't want to touch in case he broke anything. He needed help. He needed to find humans who could help him as soon as possible, which meant he needed to walk.

Kyle used his desperation and growing panic to propel himself into action. He turned and felt around for finger holds in the rock behind him, using the sturdy stone to brace himself as he struggled fiercely to pull his body into a shaky, upright position. Cautiously, he released his hands one finger at a time, and let out an unexpected shout of triumph when he managed to stay standing of his own accord. The silence that greeted him at the wordless pronouncement startled him so much that his lost his balance and fell over backward, giving another silent cry as he hit the ground in a painful twist of limbs and awkward angles.

The sudden motion must have startled some roosting birds, because before Kyle could gather his bearings, a flurry of slapping wings and sharp beaks were attacking his face and arms with loud shrieks of protest from the birds. The flock seemed to be made up of seagulls, judging by the cloud of white and grey feathers that drifted down to stick to his skin and get in his mouth. Kyle didn't realize how vicious the birds were, or if they had a personal vendetta against him. They must have known somehow that he was related to Ike, who had taken out a good many of the noisy birds with his slingshot.

Without thinking, Kyle yelled, "He's not even my real brother! I had nothing to do with him shooting you!" but of course nothing came out.

Kyle covered his head and closed his eyes, waiting the attack out and flinching at the stinging cuts the seagulls' vicious beaks and claws rent in his exposed flesh. Eventually the birds lost interest, squawking indignantly at him in a final parting shot before they took off and relocated to another unoccupied location. Kyle had never felt so furiously helpless in his life. He didn't know how many more times he could stand to be knocked down and find the will to get back up, but each time was harder and harder. He had only done this to himself, which was galling, but he refused to have regrets now. He was suffering for his impulsiveness, but even if he died here on this beach, he couldn't regret having tried. He knew living confined under his parents' dictatorship would have undeniably killed his soul, so either way his options had been severely limited.

Kyle grit his teeth and forced himself up again, willed his unsteady legs to hold still and then to move him forward. All sea life knew how to swim at birth, even merfolk, but Kyle couldn't imagine humans had the same ease when they learned how to walk. Finding and keeping his balance was a challenge, and he'd fall over every time he tried to look down and walk. He was also nonplused by the third, partially-formed leg with a strange sort of sack beneath that dangled right between the two thicker limbs. Kyle frowned down at the organ between catching his breath after yet another spill to the ground, mentally reaffirming that all of the admittedly few humans he'd seen in his life did actually walk on two legs. If the small leg was some kind of counterbalance, Kyle was pretty sure his was broken, and he couldn't guess what other use it had. If the leg were some sort of sexual organ, he couldn't imagine the soft, squishy appendage penetrating anything to be effective.

Fucking Craig, adding extra shit just to mess with Kyle more than he already had. He wondered if he could just pull the shriveled leg off and toss it out into the sea, really wishing he'd seen a human naked just once to know if he was anatomically correct. He gave a silent yelp when he grabbed his dangling parts in a rough grasp, doubled over and panting from the shooting pain that bolted up to his abdomen and made his increasingly pronounced cramps even more dire.

Why did being human have to hurt so _much_? He never realized what awkward, ungainly creatures they were, with all their extra, useless parts. The only ray of hope was that Kyle was getting better at maintaining his balance longer, and found that the stiffness and soreness in his legs abated a little with movement, but he still had to glance down occasionally to make sure he wasn't walking across a field of knives, because holy fuck everything still hurt.

Kyle was quickly becoming accustomed to the pain and no longer cared. He was going to find his prince even if it killed him.

* * *

"Uh oh... There are streakers outside the castle wall again," Butters told the prince while he emptied a chamber pot outside of the open window, oblivious to the shrieks of outrage below.

"Goddamnit! I hope it's not that fat old guy again," Cartman said as he hurriedly shoved Butters out of the way and picked up a basket of ever-ready projectiles that he kept by the window. "Why can't anyone hot ever- Oh my god." The basket tumbled from Cartman's slack hand, and the rotten fruits, vegetables and balled up, foul-smelling socks rolled out across the floor, unnoticed.

"Butters, get my horse," Cartman snapped, unusually stymied as he stared disbelievingly at the slim, nude figure stumbling along the beach right outside his window on the other side of the twenty foot stone wall that surrounded the castle.

"E-Eric?" Butters started, confused and a little concerned. He glanced out of the window towards the small red-headed figure he'd seen in the distance. "Do you know him?"

"Never mind that, Butters! My horse! Now!" Cartman barked the last order and Butters jumped, fleeing out of the room before the prince could throw his foul-smelling socks at him.

Cartman chanced one more look out of the window, his heartbeat elevated and his breath coming out in an excited rush. The gay fish had come back! Cartman hadn't been imagining his mermaid rescuer after all.

His men had found him alone on the beach and asleep. Thinking the worse of the unmoving body washed up on shore, Stan forced him rudely awake when his lieutenant attempted to resuscitate him. After punching Stan in his filthy mouth for taking advantage of His Majesty's vulnerable person, despite Stan's protests that he'd only been trying to help, plus, _ew_ , Butters and Chef peppered Cartman with questions about his miraculous survival in between regaling their own exciting rescue by a pod of dolphins. He'd cut them off and launched into an even more epic retelling of his miraculous brush with death.

 _/"You guys! You guys! You'll never believe this, but a fucking_ mermaid _saved me from a shark and kept me from drowning. I didn't think they even existed, but he had a goddamned tail and everything!"_

 _Eric waved his arms with the excitement of his harrowing adventure until he caught a glimpse of the dubious expressions Chef and Stan shared between themselves, and he hissed, irritated by their lack of reaction._

 _"What?" Cartman snapped, heaving himself off the ground since no one was offering to help him up, and jabbed a finger threateningly at them. "I'm not making this shit up. There was actually a mermaid and he saved me! I'm super serial, you guys!"_

 _"Dude, everyone knows mermaids are a myth," Stan said, shrugging apologetically at Cartman's red-faced outrage._

 _"Aww, really?" Butters asked, sounding disappointed. He'd been completely ready to believe Eric's amazing story, which was part of the reason why he was Cartman's personal servant. As incompetent as Butters was, he was gullible and amiable enough to endure some truly inspired pranks that Cartman came up with without tattling to his mom._

 _He'd once suggested to Butters there was a ghost haunting the castle's dungeons, and convinced him they were paranormal investigators and it was their duty to eradicate the poltergeist that kept blowing out candles in Eric's rooms and threw food across the dinner table when no one was looking. He'd locked Butters into one of the unused cells and paraded up and down the hallway in a sheet, rattling chains until Butters had pissed himself in terror and Cartman had nearly pissed himself with laughter._

 _The only downside was that Butters refused to change his bedding and screamed anytime someone approached him with laundry, which was inconvenient since Cartman wouldn't allow anyone else into his room and the idea of the crowned prince making his own bed was preposterous._

 _But thanks to his pranks and scheming, his men now thought Cartman was crying wolf, but he'd never been more honest in his life._

 _"Mermaids are fucking real, Stan, you black asshole! He kept me from drowning when you fuckers abandoned me to drown on the ship, and fought off twenty sharks and everything! You're all just jealous!"/_

Cartman had the chance to prove them all wrong, but mostly he couldn't believe his mermaid had come back. The others could suck his mom's hairy balls for all he cared about them believing him now. He hurried to get dressed and buckled on his sword just in case the guy turned out to be crazycakes, and even if he wasn't the weapon would still look super impressive.

* * *

Kyle stumbled down the shore half-delirious, unable to remember whether he was approaching the end of his second day or the third as a human. He had picked a direction at random and had been walking along the coastline until his brand-new legs gave out and he passed out cold and exposed wherever he'd landed, often waking up covered in sand and salt and a crab or two that would snap at him crankily when he moved and disrupted them from their living shelter. He licked his cracked, dry lips and ignored the heat scouring his blistered skin, scabbed over from the numerous tiny cuts from the seagulls' attack. He had found some rare red seaweed that merfolk used as a base for many of their healing remedies and laid slimy strips of the plant over the deeper wounds to stop the bleeding and hopefully stave off infection.

The search for Prince Eric seemed impossible when the only people he'd come across had given him an utterly appalled double-take and hurried away with their hands clasped over their children's eyes, averting their gazes hastily even as they filled Kyle's ears with ringing curses. Kyle could only assume he was deformed in some way, but he'd never seen a man or woman without layers upon layers of fabric they wore to be able to say for certain. A mer would get entangled and sink like a rock if they wore anything more than a basic covering and a few accessories.

Kyle didn't know where he was going, or what he was going to do other than to keep moving until the next time he collapsed and couldn't get back up or the spell ended and he was called back to the sea as an eel for the rest of his life. He only hoped his sense of self and awareness would disappear once he was an eel, so he could swim around in oblivion and not have to drown in the overwhelming shame of his failure.

Kyle was so disconnected from his surroundings that he barely managed to throw himself out of the way of a giant four-legged land animal when the creature came barreling towards him flinging up sand in its wake, the rider yelling something incomprehensible as he galloped past. Kyle curled into a defensive ball on the ground and covered his head, half-expecting to be stomped to death if the creature and its rider returned.

What he didn't expect was for the rider to return, sans-horse and panting, and call out, "Gay fish?"

Kyle's head snapped up at once, unable to believe what he was seeing. He was nearly convinced the sight of his prince, tall and handsome and striding towards him had to be some kind of illusion, until a shaky hand reached out and lightly touched his cheek, warm and _real._

Cartman barely had a moment to brace himself as he suddenly found himself with an armful of the deranged young man. The _naked,_ deranged young man. Cartman blustered and didn't know exactly where to put his hands, but settled for a loose, cautious arm around the other's thin waist as the man had a complete meltdown against him. He grimaced as his clean white shirtfront became damp and snotty as the man sobbed silently, clutching Cartman so hard that he would probably have to tear his shirt own just to get away.

Moments later, Butters came huffing and puffing up the beach, clutching at a stitch in his side from the effort of trying to keep up with a galloping horse.

"Butters! Give him your pants," Cartman demanded as he tried discretely to put some distance between himself and the mermaid, who wasn't actually a mermaid at the moment, and who definitely wasn't letting go of him anytime soon. He was uncomfortably aware of how tight his trouser were and angled his hips away so as not to stab the other with the hilt of his sword, or his…other…sword as the other's long, lean body pressed up against his own and shivered uncontrollably.

"Er…Eric?"

"Now, Butters!" Cartman snapped, and his manservant jumped, scrambling at the laces of his pants.

Cartman's arm was still around the man as he held out his other hand impatiently for the clothing, ignoring Butters' weak protests and snatching the garment away from Butters as soon as the pants were off. He managed to peel the man off of him like a barnacle, a string of saliva connecting them for a brief moment before it snapped wetly and effectively killed any hint of a boner Cartman may have been sporting. He was going to have to burn this shirt, but the bonfire could wait until things were sorted out here and he could be sure that taking the clearly injured man back to the castle wouldn't result in everyone's murder.

"Here, gay fish. Put these on," Cartman said, shoving the wad of material at the man, who rubbed at his damp face and took the pants with a confused expression.

Red-rimmed but impossibly green eyes flicked up to meet his, and Cartman found his breath caught by the familiarity in them. He didn't know where the mermaid's tail had gone, and for the first time he wondered if the events of the shipwreck hadn't just been a figment of his imagination after all. Maybe the young man was just a fan of royalty and looked familiar because he was a local stalker, but Cartman was mostly certain he had never seen him as a member in his court before, or as one of his hundreds of loyal subjects. No one else he knew had hair that red or curly, or eyes so brilliant that they put his family's collection of priceless jewels to shame.

Cartman didn't know how long they stood there staring at each other until Butters ruined the moment when he let out a quiet but pointed cough, tugging uncomfortably on the hem of his shirt, which barely covered his pasty white ass.

"Maybe we should get back to the castle, Eric? He doesn't look so good…" Butters mumbled, twisting his fingers together anxiously as he looked between his prince and the streaker Eric had flown out of the castle himself to intercept, rather than sending out his guards or Butters by himself.

The mermaid clutched the pants in a white-knuckled grip, and Cartman startled when he swayed and all of a sudden crumpled into a heap on the ground. Belatedly, Cartman considered that maybe he should have tried to catch him, but chivalry wasn't his strongest suit.

"Butters! Bring Mr. Kitty!" Cartman ordered as he knelt in the sand and hovered anxiously over the unconscious man, waiting for Butters to bring back his horse that he'd left to roam on the beach after he nearly fell off the damn thing trying to reign him in when he ran right past the stranger.

Between he and Butters, they loaded the young man over the saddle of Mr. Kitty like a naked sack of rice. Cartman couldn't get back up on the impossibly tall gray stallion without a pedestal, so he resigned himself for a long walk back with Mr. Kitty's reins gripped tightly in his hand, anxiously checking back every few seconds to make sure that the mermaid-not-mermaid hadn't fallen off or woken.

"Could I maybe put my pants back on now?" Butters asked as he followed behind them, the article of clothing held up in his hands hopefully.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Butters?" Eric demanded incredulously as he trudged on through the dense sand with his charge, already sweating from the exertion. "There are children out here! Remind me to give you twenty lashes when we get home for flashing everyone."

"Yes, Eric," Butters sighed sadly, hopping into his pants one leg at a time as he struggled to keep up with the prince and his new friend.


	5. Chapter 5

When Kyle regained consciousness, he was surprised to find himself in a bed rather than facedown in a pile of sand. He laid still, trying to reorient himself, but couldn't helping peeking under the covers and sighing when he saw he still had legs. He noted that he had been cleaned and bandaged as well, his skin oily and shiny with some sort of poultice on the bare patches of pale skin visible through gauzy white strips of fabric. His legs were also covered in a soft, comfortable garment up to his hips, hiding away his cuts and bruises and that weird third leg that offended Kyle as much as the limb seemed to upset everyone else.

The walls around him were high and painted a garish purple, but aside from the eye-searing color, the room was an eerie echo of his own bedroom at the palace beneath the sea. The bed nearly swallowed him whole, and everywhere he looked there were countless opulent treasures that he itched to get his fingers on and touch.

There were recent signs of someone having lived in this room, though, unlike his own back home. Whoever the person was obviously spent a considerable amount of time there, and apparently didn't care to let servants or house keepers into their domain, because the place was a mess. There was rumpled, discarded clothing thrown on the floor and tossed carelessly over the bedposts. The clothes appeared to have originated from a massive armoire that was taller than Kyle and had the doors hanging wide open like there had been a tsunami that had blown through. There were dirty dishes on the side table, dresser, and any flat surface that had an inch of bare space, including a spacious windowsill that spilled light into the room.

Kyle didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, but his heart pounded in his throat, knowing well and truly he was on his last day and final chance to seal his fate with Eric. He had already thrown back the covers and was starting to crawl his way across the bed to go looking for him, when the door banged open and a harried-looking blond boy entered, holding the door with his hip as a second person nearly collided with him from behind, focused on not dropping a loaded tray carefully in his arms.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get that, Eric?" the blond asked nervously, hovering to intercept the tray if necessary.

"I've already told you I got this, Butters! You act like I can't wipe my own ass sometimes."

"W-Well, there was that one time after you thought we should have Fiesta Fridays at the castle and your tummy disagreed with the fajitas and then you..."

"I swear to actual Christ, Butters, if you finish that sentence-"

Whatever Eric was going to say was instantly forgotten when he saw Kyle awake, kneeling in the middle of the bed. They gaped open-mouthed at each other, before Eric seemingly remembered the tray in his hands and hurried over to bring it to the bedside.

"Oh fuck, you're awake." Eric carelessly swept the dishes on the table next to the bed on the ground with a loud shatter of crockery without looking away from Kyle, nearly knocking over the items in his hands in his haste to set down the tray.

Kyle winced at the commotion and sat back awkwardly, still unused to the effects of gravity without the buoyancy of water. Things didn't just fall and break in the sea - _people_ didn't just fall and hit the ground either, like Kyle had a dozen times over without the water there to buffer him and guide him down slowly. He would have to be so careful with everything, and curled his hands into fists to keep his natural curiosity contained enough to keep from reaching out and taking. His movements were faster with only air as resistance, making him clumsy when he'd first been learning his body, and he didn't trust himself not to break more of the prince's things accidentally.

"Hi," Eric said uncomfortably, his warm brown eyes flicking over Kyle's bare chest almost helplessly, before his cheeks tinged pink and he occupied himself with fidgeting with whatever was on the tray. "I brought you, like, drinks and food and stuff, if you're hungry?"

Kyle couldn't help grinning back with relief and delight at Eric, not even glancing at the items he brought, which were no doubt fascinating and his stomach twisted ravenously at the idea of food. His legs caught in the sheet as he scrabbled across the bed and then over the side, Eric's arms shooting out reflexively just in time to catch him from falling.

Kyle buried his face in Eric's neck and squeezed him tight, relishing his sweet, musky scent and strength when he hugged him back just as fiercely.

"Hey," Eric murmured into Kyle's hair, his lips brushing the top of his head as he pressed a steadying palm against Kyle's back. "You are that gay fish, right? The one that saved me from the shipwreck?"

Kyle stilled, almost unable to breathe for the sheer exhilaration flooding through him. He did remember! Kyle pulled back and nodded enthusiastically, bracing his palms against Eric's shoulders. He could feel when the other prince slumped in relief, like maybe he had thought Kyle wasn't real after all and had just been proven wrong.

"Oh thank god, I would have never lived that down. I'm Eric, by the way. Prince Eric. Everyone calls me Your Highness or Majesty, but you can call me Eric, I guess. But only you, because you're awesome and totally saved my ass out there, holy shit."

"Do you need anything else, Eric?" the boy asked cheerfully from the doorway, apparently oblivious to the scowl Eric threw him over his shoulder.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that, Butters? Tell Stan to put you in the stocks this afternoon for your impertinence!" Eric blustered imperiously, puffing out his chest as his eyes flicked back to Kyle as if to gauge whether Kyle was impressed by his authority.

"Oh no, I can't today, Eric. I'm taking Kenny for a check up. He's been feeling under the weather lately." Butters held out his hands, which Kyle realized were occupied with a round, red crab.

The crab's shell was a drab sort of crimson, and there was foam around the mandibles by its mouth. Its pinchers opened and closed slowly, and even a blind person would have been able to tell the creature wasn't well. Kyle surprised both of them when he moved out of Eric's embrace and gestured towards Butters with his hands outstretched.

Butters looked at him wide-eyed and pulled the crab back to tuck against his chest defensively, but Kyle waited him out, schooling his expression to convey kindness but insistence. He barely managed to keep from making an unpleasant face at the memory of hours spent in front of a mirror with his public relations tutor, being drilled on decorum and how to present himself and his intentions through clear body language. He supposed the lessons would finally come in handy now, when body language was the only language he had at his disposal.

Butters hesitated, glancing down at the crab and then to Eric, who looked confused and annoyed that Kyle's attention wasn't on him. Finally he shuffled over towards Kyle, although he didn't relinquish his hold on Kenny quite yet.

"Can you fix him?" Butters asked in a warbling voice, sounding close to tears.

Kyle smiled reassuringly before casting around for his satchel. He let out a breath of relief when the bag had been left on the bed next to him, and he dug around until he located a small piece of the red seaweed that he'd hoarded after the seagull attack just in case.

He mashed the seaweed into a paste using his palm and finger, and gently reached out for the crab after making eye contact with a nervous Butters for permission. Kyle set the crab on its back on a pillow, worrying that it only laid there unmoving with its legs curled towards its center. Kyle rubbed the paste into the crab's carapace, nudging a tiny bit at the opening of its mouth, which opened and closed a few times after a heartening snap of a claw at Kyle's finger.

Eric and Butters were watching the proceedings without a word, although Butters was fidgeting anxiously and Eric had his arms crossed over his chest, brows furrowed. Butters gave a gasp when Kenny's legs and pinchers started thrashing all at once, and Kyle hurriedly flipped him right side up. Kenny snapped at him crankily with a claw and hurriedly scuttled over the pillow towards Butters, who scooped him up as he cried and peppered kisses all over Kenny's shell, which was already looking a little brighter.

"Oh, thank you!" Butters blubbered, not even seeming to mind the way Kenny had latched onto his ear with a pincher when Butters cuddled him up against his cheek. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

"For the love of god, get the fuck out of here and take that stupid crab with you!" Eric demanded, reaching the peak of his irritation and wishing that damn crustacean would just croak already so he wouldn't have to hear about it constantly.

"If you ever need anything," Butters promised fervently, reaching out to take one of Kyle's hands in his and squeezed tightly before releasing him and running away before Eric had an aneurysm.

"The stocks, Butters!" Eric yelled to Butters' retreating back. He was certain Kenny had flipped him off over Butters' shoulder, but the door was already slamming shut behind them before he could put that crab in his place.

"Jesus H. Christ," he muttered in disgust, turning back towards the stranger in his bed. His anger was forgotten instantly when the other's shy smile grew brilliant and happy, all of his attention fully focused on Eric with no interruptions.

The gorgeous redhead was watching him avidly, and Eric fidgeted, feeling self-conscious under the unwavering and unexpected gaze.

"What's your name anyway?" Eric snapped, a little harsher than he'd intended, but he'd never felt so nervous or unguarded before in his life.

Fortunately the mermaid, if that's what he was, didn't seem to mind and perked up at the question.

 _/Kyle/_ , Kyle said without thinking, or tried to, so excited to have Eric, _his_ Eric right there that he'd forgotten Craig's spell for a moment and the loss of his voice.

Kyle's hand flew to his throat and Eric looked at him in surprise, and then confusion when Kyle didn't say anything further.

"Did you lose your voice or something?" Eric asked slowly, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at Kyle's hand around his throat. "I could have sworn I heard you singing to me the other night..."

Kyle nodded sadly and hunched his shoulders self-consciously. Before he could settle into a proper wallow, he sat up and snapped his fingers when a thought occurred to him. He quickly mimed swimming in the ocean using both of his hands and silently articulated every detail of how he came to end up in Eric's bed as a human with a series of emphatic gestures and expressions. Kyle was pleased with himself as he imitated walking with two fingers traveling over his flat palm and ended with his arms flung open to encompass the room and Eric and Kyle there now, looking expectantly at Eric with a smug grin for his own ingenuity.

"Huh," Eric said after an extended moment of silence to process the information. "So you are batshit crazy after all. Great."

Kyle scowled and ran his fingers through his hair with a rough jerk when he snagged on tangles, slumping with disappointment. He was the best at playing charades on family game night at home, especially since all Ike would do was pantomime giant dicks and blowjobs and point at Kyle, while his parents shouted guesses like "hunting with spears!" and "eating a large sea cucumber!" while Kyle sat there red-faced as his asshole little brother came dangerously close to outing him to their oblivious parents, who had expected Kyle to marry a nice Jewish mermaid of their choosing and give them hoards of grandchildren.

"Maybe you could write your name?" Eric suggested with loud, slow words, talking louder than usual as if to compensate for Kyle's lack of a voice, or as if he thought Kyle were deaf. Or completely retarded.

"DO-YOU-KNOW-HOW-TO-WRITE?" Eric bellowed when Kyle just frowned at him, offended and unamused. His pitch was so deafening that Kyle winced and covered his ears pointedly, shooting the prince an appalled look when he seemed not to notice.

Kyle shook his head in exasperation, cutting Eric off with a hand when an open stationary box on Eric's writing desk caught his gaze. Reenergized, Kyle scrambled off the bed and investigated while Eric uttered a questioning protest, which went unanswered. Kyle was used to writing with fish bone and squid ink, but the mechanics of the equipment looked the same as he located a thin metal tube with a pointed tip, casting around for something to write on.

Eric was watching him with open curiosity and Kyle flushed under the attention, finding a square of plain white fabric with tiny blotches of color on the corner that was similar enough to the cloth scrolls they wrote upon back home. He dipped the stick into the open well of ink and quickly scratched the neat lines of his name into the material, marveling how the ink didn't streak or blotch in the dry air.

Kyle held up the cloth proudly bearing his name, beaming at Eric as he found a way past Craig's stupid rules to communicate. Kyle's grin faltered at the unimpressed look Eric returned after his brown eyes flickered to the writing and then met Kyle's again.

"My grandmother, who was _queen_ , made that for my mother's wedding anniversary before my father died," Eric said tonelessly as he looked from the ruined cloth to Kyle's face, which paled in horror, fingers clenching around the delicate embroidery.

Kyle dropped the cloth like it had bit him and spoke frantic, silent words of apology, reaching out to grasp Eric's hand and plead with him earnestly with a widening of his eyes that he hoped conveyed his dismay.

Eric's stern expression twitched, and then he was doubled over in laughter, snorting inelegantly when Kyle looked shocked and then outraged.

"Oh fuck, your face!" Eric gasped, pointing directly at Kyle's cheeks which were growing red and blotchy as he picked up and shoved the ruined piece of delicate embroidery into Eric's chest and crossed his arms petulantly as Eric laughed even louder.

"That thing was ugly as shit. I wouldn't even use it to wipe my ass, so you totally did me a favor, dude. My mom made me keep it, but now I can just blame you!"

Kyle scowled at the spectacle Eric was making of himself at Kyle's expense, and he couldn't help thinking back to the beach when the twitchy blond merman had wished him luck on his send off. He would need every ounce of luck now, if only to keep from throttling the prince of his dreams.

When Eric finally began to wind down after spending a highly inappropriate length of time braying with laughter, he blotted at the tears of mirth on his face with the cloth Kyle had scribbled on, leaving streaks of black ink around his eyes. Kyle resentfully did not point out the mess Eric was making, and left him looking like one of those panda things a cousin of his had described after a trip to the Asian islands.

Eric finally appeared to regain his composure and pulled the cloth away, holding it by the corners at arm's length with a quizzical expression. "What the fuck does that say? I think I smudged it."

Kyle uncrossed his arms and moved over to Eric's side to look, laughing to himself when the dolt was holding his name upside down. He pinched the bottom corners with two fingers and helpfully inverted the material so his name was big and bold and right side up, just waiting for Eric to say. Kyle looked at him expectantly, their faces close.

Eric raised his eyebrows and looked back and forth between Kyle and the writing like he was waiting for the punch line of a joke. When none came, his brows furrowed and he exclaimed, "That is goddamn chicken scratch! You speak English, right? Your people never learned how to write?"

Kyle opened his mouth to protest. He could write very well! The clean, curved lines of his peoples' written language of Evaskari were clear and concise on the white square, and he'd even written his name in the high dialect, assuming - since Eric was a prince as well - that he would easily understand and recognize Kyle's own noble lineage. Perhaps he should have used the common wording? He understood Eric's speech just fine so he didn't understand the problem.

Eric, realizing the scribbles his mermaid was convinced were actual letters, grabbed the cloth and the other's wrist with a put-upon sigh and dragged him over to the writing desk.

"Here, shark bait. This is what real writing looks like." Eric's tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he very deliberately drew a series of big lines, followed by smaller ones ending in an incomplete circle. Eric slapped his hand on the desk over his name, and then thumped his own chest.

"E. R. I. C. Eric. ERRRIIIIICCC," Eric proclaimed in the loud, slow tones he used like he couldn't be bothered to remember Kyle was mute, not freaking deaf.

Eric's scrawls were just as unintelligible to him, though, and Kyle viciously crumpled up the thoroughly desecrated needlepoint and threw it out the open window in frustration, where the gauzy material fluttered and drifted mockingly in the wind.

"Hey! What'd you do that for? It's not my fault mermaids apparently have fish shit for brains. Hopefully your mouth is still good for other things that doesn't involve talking," Eric grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest, and Kyle saw red, his frustration peaking as the prince dug himself under Kyle's skin quicker than anyone else he knew - including Craig or his mom.

Kyle couldn't control his reaction. His fist lashed out and caught Eric across the jaw with a vicious force that surprised them both, knocking Eric backwards where he just barely caught himself on the edge of the bed and sat down hard. Eric clapped his hand to his face, a bright red spot already blooming across his jaw.

Kyle started for Eric automatically with his hands outstretched, completely horrified at his outburst, but Eric flinched and twisted himself away. Kyle was used to the resistance of water pulling his hits, which was why merfolk used mostly spears and stabby weapons that could cut through water and pin their target. He and Ike wrestled and play fought with each other and the dolphins sometimes, but Kyle had never hit anyone before. He felt terrible, especially at the way Eric was hunched over with his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with what Kyle was dismayed to realize were sobs.

Kyle's heart squeezed in his chest and he tentatively brushed fingertips across Eric's shoulders so as not to startle him before he knelt between the other's legs with his hands braced on them, trying to look up into his face. Eric refused to look at him, sniffling pathetically into his hands, and Kyle could only wait him out helplessly, all of his frustration instantly turning to worry and self-loathing.

Eric was all that he had now. Kyle had given up everything to be with him, but he should have expected forging some kind of relationship would be hard, especially with his rapidly depleting time limit and their communication barriers. Eric didn't deserve to be treated so roughly by Kyle, and the merman could only pray Eric would forgive him before he was turned into an eel and lost him forever without telling him that he was sorry and that he loved him.

Kyle reached up and gently grasped Eric's elbows with his hands, softly kissing the backs of his fingers and the exposed curve of his ears and forehead. He stroked his soft brown hair back and made soothing, soundless vibrations with his throat, putting every ounce of regret and love into the actions and willing Eric to forgive him.

"Leave me alone! Nobody likes meeee!" Eric cried dramatically behind his hands, twitching away from Kyle's touches, but not exactly moving to leave either.

Kyle bit his lip and only barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes at the dramatics when he caught Eric peeking at him through his fingers, dry-eyed but still whimpering pitifully. Kyle patiently waited him out, rubbing his hands soothingly over Eric's broad shoulders and down his arms until those ridiculous fake whimpers petered off, Eric obviously basking in the attention.

"Ow, you asshole," Eric reiterated pointedly when he finally took his hands away and dropped the act, but Kyle could see that the mark he'd left was vivid and would bruise tomorrow.

Kyle leaned up without thinking and feathered a light kiss over the spot with his lips, and Eric turned his head unexpectedly, their mouths nearly brushing. Kyle reared back, startled and flushed, and then cursed to himself for missing his opportunity, and for the disappointed look on Eric's face. Eric pulled back as well and glanced off to the side over Kyle's shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.

"So we need to figure out your name, huh?" Eric said, glancing down as Kyle settled to the ground at his feet, looking up at him expectantly. Eric blushed and watched him back, just as unable as Kyle to escape these moments of fascination they held for each other.

Eric cleared his throat pointedly and nudged Kyle's hip with the toe of his boot, jumping a little when Kyle's hand wrapped around the lower half of his leg and rested there as a gentle pressure without being restricting.

Eric didn't pull away.

"Maybe we can try lip reading?" Eric suggested, and Kyle lit up at the brilliant idea.

 _/Kyle/,_ Kyle mouthed slowly, tilting his face up towards Eric, and heating a little at the way Eric's gaze was fixed on his mouth. He enunciated as clearly as he could, putting emphasis behind the two syllables. _/Ky-uhl./_

From Eric's crestfallen expression, he clearly wasn't deciphering Kyle this time either.

"Goddamnit, are you just messing with me now? I don't have a fucking clue what you're saying!"

Desperate to be understood, Kyle stretched his mouth over every bit of his name, for once wishing it were longer, as he uselessly opened his mouth and then stuck his tongue behind his front teeth.

"It's a K, right? Or a 'kah', since you apparently don't know letters."

Kyle nodded, mouthing his name again and again and willing Eric to just get it, for the love of Poseidon!

"Kahl?"

Kyle's head snapped up, and he nodded frantically, eyes wide. The pronunciation still wasn't quite right, but Kyle would fucking take it at that point.

"Kahl is your name? That's weird," Eric said suspiciously, but Kyle didn't even care.

Kyle surged up into Eric's space with his almost-name still echoing from Eric's lips and flung arms around his neck, flattening the other man against the bed and practically crawling on top of him to kiss him hard and desperately.

Eric startled, but quickly wrapped his own arms around Kyle's waist to pull him in close, catching Kyle's wandering lips when they drifted off to kiss his cheeks and mouth tenderly at the hot swell of his jaw. They kissed open mouthed and hungrily, Kyle's tongue catching the familiar taste of the sea from the salt of Eric's drying tears that hadn't been entirely faked after all.

Kyle felt like he was drowning, except without all of the horrible parts that actually came with drowning, or falling without the hard ground to stop him short. Eric was his anchor, and Kyle sighed blissfully when the other carefully rolled them over and Eric leaned into him, his fingers curling around Kyle's side as his other hand tangled in his hair. Kyle arched his hips up as Eric's hand shifted lower, both of them breathless and eager, until a loud growl rent through the room and stopped them both dead.

"Uh," Eric started, wide-eyed, and then Kyle's stomach gave another audible protest, drawing attention to the fact he hadn't eat in...since before the shipwreck, he recalled after some seriously difficult thought.

Kyle groaned soundlessly and flopped back onto the bed, shoving his palms into his eye sockets in mortification.

"Shit. I guess you are hungry," Eric said in obvious disappointment, moving off of the smaller man reluctantly as he shifted to adjust something in his trousers with a grimace. "You look like you need a sandwich, or five."

Kyle's own garment was strangely restrictive all of a sudden, but he was starting to get used to his human body doing a bunch of weird things at any given moment, so he ignored the feeling and sat up when Eric moved away, looking abashed.

Eric distracted himself with bringing the tray over to the bed, scooting down next to Kyle and balancing the assortment of food on his own lap.

"I don't know what you people eat, so I brought pretty much everything," Eric explained as he pointed at items in plates or bowls and started naming things off. "I got Chef to make some of my favorites for you. This is pizza," he said, pointing to a colorful triangle-shaped food. "It's food of the gods, dude, I swear. Here."

Eric picked up the slice and held it up for the other to take, blushing when Kyle leaned forward without hesitation and took an enormous bite of the tip right from Eric's hand.

Kyle's eyes went big and he slapped a hand over his mouth in surprise. It was hot! He swallowed quickly without chewing, wincing at the stinging sensation down his throat. He hurriedly stuck his tongue out and tried to cool the burning by fanning his open mouth with his hand.

"Fuck, sorry," Eric jumped, casting around for a cup and handing it to him. "Drink that. I forgot to tell you the pizza was hot."

Kyle held the cup in both hands, uncertain what to do with the clear water inside. Eric was looking at him expectantly so Kyle quickly brought the cup to his mouth, watching Eric for approval. Kyle cautiously stretched his tongue out and touched the cool liquid with the tip of his tongue, remembering all too well the attempts he had made at swallowing sea water.

Eric barked out an incredulous laugh, startling Kyle and upsetting the cup into spilling some of the water down his chin as he jerked the cup away from his mouth. "What are you doing? Just drink it. I didn't piss in your cup, dude."

Kyle looked at him dubiously, but the little bit of water had incited the dryness in his parched mouth a thousand fold, and he found himself tipping the cup back and pouring half the cup into his mouth, his cheeks bulging.

"Swalloooow," Eric encouraged, sounding far too amused for his own good.

Kyle remembered vividly what happened to him after he opened his mouth right after he transformed and his lungs filled with water, but his throat already contracted without his permission, swallowing every last drop. Kyle winced, expecting to immediately start coughing, but he was pleasantly surprised when the water trickled down to slosh in his belly instead of his lungs.

Relief like he'd never felt before suffused him, and he quickly drained the cup, looking around for more and watching eagerly when Eric filled the cup again from a pitcher and Kyle drained his second glass.

"You act like you've never drank anything before," Eric snickered, and Kyle shrugged one shoulder and shook his head, pursing his lips in consternation when Eric looked flabbergasted at this silent omission.

"How the fuck is that possible? Didn't you drink anything when you were a fish?"

Kyle shook his head again, puzzled by the idea. Cups and chalices were decorative at home, and were used to hold coins or stones and things of that nature. Merfolk certainly didn't drink out of them at any rate, because they didn't get thirsty - they lived in water after all.

Kyle's stomach was starting to feel full and slightly queasy, so he forced himself to sip at his third glass of water, relishing at the clean, crisp taste that seemed to re-energize him all over.

Eric nibbled distractedly at the slice of pizza in his hand, and contemplated the young man sitting before him, staring down at his cup of water with something akin to awe. He wasn't entirely certain whether Kyle wasn't actually human, as opposed to being extremely eccentric, but he seemed so vulnerable and fascinated by everything that Eric didn't think he was being played somehow. He couldn't help recalling the way Kyle lit up at the sight of him or how he kissed Eric like the prince was everything he ever wanted.

If Kyle's appearance that day of the shipwreck up until now had been some kind of ploy to get inside the castle and close to Eric for some nefarious reason, then he had fallen for the act - hook, line and sinker. He had no doubt Stan would demand a full investigation and background check for his own protection, but he didn't want anyone else touching Kyle or trying to take him away. At the moment he didn't care if the other wasn't even a real mermaid. He was real and here with Eric now, and something inside him at once calmed and thrummed erratically every time they touched, and Eric couldn't quite dismiss him until he figured out what the feeling was that had begun to take hold.

"Do you want to try eating something else?" Eric asked tentatively, and Kyle's head jerked up like Eric had startled him out of his own contemplations.

Kyle eyed the pizza Eric set aside warily, not knowing what to expect, but much too hungry to decline. He nodded, watching when Eric picked up a bowl of brightly colored somethings, and nudged up even closer to Kyle on the bed.

"This is fruit. It's not hot or anything, so you should be fine." Before Kyle could reach out and select a piece from the bowl, Eric grabbed a round, purple fruit between his first two fingers and held it up to Kyle's lips with a faint pink blush dusting his round cheeks.

Kyle ducked his head with a grin and delicately took the fruit between his front teeth, biting down experimentally until the delicate skin gave way and sent a sweet burst of juice and flavor into his mouth and down his chin. He covered his mouth with a silent laugh of delight, chewing and swallowing hurriedly so he could eat more.

Eric named off every fruit that he fed to Kyle, his voice becoming increasingly husky and strained when the other looked increasingly orgasmic after each bite, sucking the juices from Eric's fingers until he could no longer stand it and covered Kyle's mouth with his own, his tongue chasing the flavors of grapes and berries and oranges until Kyle forgot entirely about the fruit and tried to devour Eric's mouth instead.

He didn't know how long they kissed, but by the time either of them came up for air, they were both red-faced and gasping and desperately, desperately hard. Kyle was tenting the front of his pants, and Eric tried not to stare, but he'd never seen another guy's boner before, and he was pretty sure Kyle would let him.

He pressed his lips against the long curve of Kyle's neck, careful of the burns and cuts on his bare shoulders, before sliding a hand down his side to rest against his hip, his thumb dipping slightly beneath his waistband.

Kyle squirmed when Eric touched him and he shoved at the pants fretfully, feeling constrained and hotter from more than just his sunburns.

"Is this okay?" Eric murmured against his throat, hooking the tops of his fingers into the pants and drawing them slowly downward, when all he wanted to do was tear them off Kyle and have his way with him.

Kyle nodded frantically, letting go of Eric to assist him in the removal of his clothing, which actually amounted to hampering more than helping since he didn't have a clue how to undo the laces and tiny buttons humans insisted upon. He quickly gave up and wrapped his arms around Eric's shoulders instead, lifting his hips so Eric could pull his trappings free and leave Kyle more comfortably bare. Kyle was keenly aware that his mysterious third leg was now erect and seemed to have taken on a mind of its own. He noted that Eric's appendage, thankfully, looked similar when he drew his out with a soft hiss, although perhaps thicker and slightly shorter.

"Have you ever done this before?" Eric asked, kneeling over him as hungrily took in Kyle's body like his skinny, scratched up and burned form was a bowl of delicious fruit and he was going to eat him whole.

Kyle shivered and shook his head, watching Eric just as ardently and wishing the other would take off his clothing as well, but unable to ask. Thoughts flew out of his head when Eric straddled his legs and took both of their - penises? Kyle had to assume this strange, non-retractable thing was his reproductive organ now - in his hand and pressed them together with a low moan that Kyle felt echo through his own chest. He clutched at Eric's sleeves and could only watch as Eric moved his hand up and down both their lengths, causing stars to explode behind Kyle's eyes even though it was, he hoped, still day.

They only lasted a handful of pulls before Eric seized and came all over Kyle's cock and belly, slicking his palm with the mess and managing one more quick tug before Kyle followed with a silent shout, tearing Eric's shirt at the seams. Eric didn't seem to notice or care, and judging by the amount of clothing on the floor alone, Kyle figured one shirt wouldn't be missed.

They took a few moments to catch their breath, but Kyle realized they were both still half hard in Eric's loose grip around them, and nudged his hips up to signal he was ready to go again, unwilling to risk an incomplete union in order to fulfill the spell's terms. Fortunately Eric appeared to take his impatience at face-value, and kissed Kyle quickly on the lips before releasing them with an expression of disgust at his wet hand, which he wiped carelessly on the duvet. He kissed his way reverently down Kyle's body, gentle brushes of lips over bandaged skin that had Kyle quivering and fully aroused within moments. Eric was conscientious enough not to put too much of his considerable weight on Kyle's fragile body, but even the lightest touch of his fingertips against Kyle's red, blistered flesh caused the skin to blanch white. Eric somehow ended up kneeling on the ground between Kyle's legs, and Kyle propped himself up on his elbows to watch him with open curiosity.

Kyle had no idea how humans had sex, but what little he knew about intercourse between merfolk of any gender was that sex was normally done face-to-face. His heart beat a little faster when Eric place a kiss to his hipbone, just above what Kyle considered to be a "no man's land" of sorts considering his lower half was prone to doing uncomfortable and strange things without warning.

"Hey, spread your thighs," Eric urged as he leaned in the space between Kyle's legs, his palms warm on some new lower body part Kyle didn't have the words for.

When Kyle only looked back at him in confusion, and then back down where Eric's hands were with an eyebrow raised in question, Eric frowned back at him and tapped the two larger parts now sticking out from Kyle's hips in place of his tail with his fingers and said slowly, "Thighs. These are thighs. My favorite part to eat on a chicken, by the way, after the legs."

Kyle sat up and touched the joints below his thighs, and Eric played along gamely enough, even though the diversion was the last thing either of them wanted at the moment. But after coming once, Kyle's arousal was trumped by his natural inquisitiveness and desire to know everything about being human as quickly as possible.

"Knees," Eric replied with a sigh to Kyle's unspoken question, sliding his hands down and around to cup the curves of Kyle's legs just below his knees. "Calves." He moved Kyle's legs so the two longer sections that branched off from his knees bent and flexed.

Kyle knew the word 'legs' of course, and feet, but he didn't realize there were names for each of the parts that made up a human's leg. He was riveted and motioned for Eric to continue, repeating each body part in his mind so the new words would stick.

The prince humored the former mermaid with unparalleled patience, especially considering he was kneeling right in-between the other's legs, and Kyle couldn't even appreciate the rarity and honor of a royal liege like Eric kneeling before him like some commoner. His hands continued their path downward, brushing over fine red hairs on soft, sensitive skin that likely hadn't been exposed to the sun before he'd found Kyle burned up and delirious on the beach.

"Shins," he pronounced, when his hands rested over the body part in question, watching the way Kyle's pretty lips formed the word silently to himself. His fingers curved around Kyle's legs and brushed lightly against slender swells of bone. "These knobby bits are your ankles. They're kinda like your knees and allow shit to bend and rotate and stuff, and are attached to your feet."

Eric grasped his feet in both hands and gave them a gentle shake.

Kyle jerked when Eric's fingers brushed the bottoms of his feet after "heel" and "ball," his mouth opening on a voiceless shout of laughter at the unexpected tickling sensation there. Eric gave a grunt when one of Kyle's flailing legs accidentally caught him in the side, until the much larger man grabbed for him and held him pinned by the...what was that word?...Thighs. Kyle giggled inaudibly into his hands at Eric's annoyed expression as he rubbed at his hip where Kyle had kicked him.

"As I was saying," Eric proclaimed after clearing his throat and looking away for a brief moment in response to Kyle's adorable grin, his own cheeks warm.

"These little piggies are your toes," he finished, pinching the ten little protrusions at the end of his feet until Kyle smiled again and kicked at him playfully. "They're kind of like fingers for your feet. Not quite sure what they're good for, since you can't pick things up or, like, eat with them or anything. Balance, maybe. But feet are just ugly in general."

Eric promptly dropped Kyle's feet and shoved them away with disgust, dusting off his hands coquettishly. Kyle reached out with his foot and poked Eric in the cheek with his toe, careful to avoid his swollen jaw. He grinned when the prince pushed him away and turned to bite Kyle in the - fuck, what was that word again? Oh, his calf.

Kyle's hips jerked unexpectedly at the sting, uncertain whether the slight bite felt painful or erotic. Eric's mouth on him _anywhere_ would likely leaned towards the more arousing end of the pain spectrum, so he didn't try to pull away, eager for Eric to teach him more.

"And this," Eric's voice had gone low and smoky, his lips hovering over Kyle's third leg which had grown and stiffened as his mouth had moved up his leg and towards his belly button. "This is your cock, Kahl."

Kyle shivered and his back arched in a sharp bow when Eric's lips grazed down the side of his straining flesh, his eyes fixed preditoriarly on Kyle's face as Kyle gripped the sheets and writhed when Eric pursed his lips against the head of Kyle's cock.

Eric had never done anything like this before, sex things, aside from some furtive kissing with a milkmaid or stable boy, and the one time he and Butters just sort of...held...each other's dicks when they were younger, curiously looking between them and waiting for _something_ to happen. Of course, nothing ever had because it was weird and uncomfortable and Butters, so they put their dicks away and Eric threatened Butters with the iron maiden in the dungeons if he so much as breathed a word about their little experiment.

Even though Kyle couldn't speak or make any sounds, his body was incredibly responsive, flushed beneath his sunburn and his mouth open and gasping like a fish. He wrapped his legs around Eric and pulled him in with a hand buried in his hair, writhing on Eric's bed sheets like he was being tortured and loving every moment. Eric allowed the manhandling this once and knew that he would have to lay down the law later, but Kyle was letting him do anything he wanted without protest, so Eric was more inclined to be generous. Everything about Kyle was doing it for him, from his stupid ginger hair and stupid freckles and stupid lips and too-thin body and everything.

He pulled away for a moment to breathe and slick his fingers with spit, to Kyle's obvious disapproval judging by the way he dug his nails into Eric's scalp and drummed his heels against his back. Eric shut him up, so to speak, with a hard suck to the tip of his cock and his finger circling the tight pucker of his hole.

He nearly bit Kyle's dick when the other suddenly went ridged and jackknifed up and away from Eric's hand, his face inflamed and his hands clamped tightly over his bottom with such a look of outrage that Eric snorted out an inelegant laugh at his reaction.

"Sorry," Eric said, not sounding sorry at all. "I could probably find something to make it easier to fuck. I mean, if you still want...?" Eric hesitated, looking to Kyle for confirmation.

Fuck fuck fuck. Kyle couldn't believe humans had sex out of _there_. Foul, unmentionable things had come out of that hole during his time deliriously wandering the beach before Eric had found him, and he didn't have a way of telling Eric that before the other went and tried to stick his finger in him. His cock had leaked water down his leg several times too, but he'd forgotten to look for a plug of some sort to keep his insides from spilling out of him, with the only positive being that his cramping had mercifully abated after each of these incidences.

He didn't have those painful feelings low in his gut at the moment, thankfully, aside from his slightly flagging arousal, but he had to assume Eric knew what he was doing and would forgive him should Kyle's body do its very best to humiliate him.

He nodded jerkily and slowly uncurled his legs, swallowing hard as he let Eric back in between them. He was trembling as Eric rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, his palms damp with what must be nerves. Humans had water come out of the strangest places, Kyle noted. His eyes and nose ran when he'd cried from pain and helplessness, and his entire body would be covered in beads of salt water after being in the sun for too long, even if he hadn't been anywhere close for the sea spray to reach him. And his dick, of course. His dick as a merman was retractable, tapered and pink, but at least his come appeared the same, if nothing else did. He used to have two slits below his navel - one sheathed his cock, and the other his rectum, but now his most delicate insides were dangling soft and vulnerable on the outside of his body, and his rectum was located in a far different place than he could have anticipated.

He was scared and uncertain, but Kyle wanted Eric in any way he could have him for more than just the looming threat of Craig's enchantment hanging over his head. He reached his arms out to embrace Eric when the other stood up from the floor and joined him on the bed, his brows creased with concern until Kyle kissed him and smiled encouragingly, if tremulously.

"I wish you could talk," Eric said with plaintive frustration, tangling his fingers in bright red curls. "I can't tell if you're actually a mermaid or just retarded. Maybe I'm stupid for believing in you when you haven't actually _said_ anything..."

Kyle's heart sunk, and he knew if he didn't do something soon, Eric would talk himself out of having sex with him. He wished desperately for more time, but there was no more to be had judging by the lengthening shadows that stretched across the room, threatening to envelope them both in darkness. He shook his head and firmed his resolve, rolling on top of Eric and kissing him breathless while he rubbed their dicks together with graceless wiggling that still managed to feel incredible.

Eric's hands grabbed at his waist and pulled him closer, responding to Kyle's wiggling with some squirming of his own until they were hard and pressed flushed together. Eric's hand reached out for the tray on the bedside table and came back with a small ceramic container that held something that looked pale yellow and creamy. Kyle watched interestedly as Eric stuck two of his fingers right into the paste, leaving them slick and shiny.

"Butter," Eric explained at Kyle's questioning look. "It's to, er, make things easier. For fucking."

Kyle's mouth formed a silent 'oh', although he didn't understand what the blond boy with the crab had to do with anything, until Eric brought his hand back down to his backside and pressed them against his hole. Kyle would have made a rather high-pitched, undignified noise if he had his voice, he was sure, and was momentarily grateful his vocal chords were in Craig's safekeeping in order to spare his dignity. He bit his lip when Eric stopped with a concerned look on his face, but Kyle quickly shook his head and buried his face in Eric's shoulder, spreading his legs and arching his hips up in a silent urge to continue.

The next few minutes were some of the most uncomfortable of his life, and Kyle mentally ran through his music scales just to get through the discomfort without pulling away. As much as he was enthralled by humans, they were a deeply strange species, and he was quickly finding that for all the similarities between their spoken language and appearance from the waist up, there was so much he was going to have to learn if he managed to remain human after this night.

When Eric's thick fingers finally slipped out of him, Kyle breathed a sigh of relief, which was incredibly short lived because seconds later Eric moved him so Kyle was kneeling over his cock, which was huge and red and pointed straight up at Kyle's tiny, tiny hole.

Kyle could feel salt water break out all over his body and bead down his temples, catching and plastering curls of hair to the sides of his face. He scrabbled at Eric's shoulders and gripped him tightly when the prince lowered him down slowly onto his organ, barely giving Kyle a moment to brace himself before he had speared Kyle all the way to the hilt.

Kyle cried out impotently at the pain that ratcheted up into his lower back and spine, feeling like he was being split apart for the second time. He slapped a hand against Eric's chest, who was still fully clothed, and the abrasive material that scratched at the tender insides of Kyle's thighs only added to his misery. Eric seemed to take the hint and stop, his hands squeezing hard against Kyle's hips as if to cease moving took considerable effort. Kyle noted that salt water was beading on Eric's upper lip and pooling in the hollow of his throat where the first of his top buttons were undone, but he didn't seem to be in pain from their joining, fortunately.

Kyle trembled all over, afraid to move, however the longer he sat there the more the pain abated until he eventually felt like he could breathe again. Eric reached up and cupped his cheek carefully, and Kyle clung onto his wrist and nuzzled his palm, wanting so badly to have this connection with Eric, no matter the cost.

Eric shifted restlessly beneath him, and Kyle gasped a little at the sensation, rocking his hips without thought to chase after the fleeting feeling that was a sharp, unforeseen contrast to the pain. Eric groaned loudly and grasped at Kyle, his fingers nearly meeting together around Kyle's waist.

"Are you... Is this okay?" Eric panted, squinting up at Kyle who was beginning to regain his color after he had turned a ghastly white at the initial penetration. Eric wasn't about to admit he had no idea what he was doing, but he didn't want to hurt the other boy either. All of his limited knowledge of fornication came from overhearing the lewd talk of soldiers and the graphic books his mom had hidden away in her private library. His few sources seemed to agree that a man couldn't just stick his dick in and expect magic to happen without some warm up first, but a little pain was generally inevitable the first time.

When Kyle started to move on top of him, possibly sooner than he should, there was little Eric could do to dissuade him when all of his effort went into restraining himself from spilling into Kyle at once.

Kyle was undulating on his dick with such a look of concentration and sheer determination on his visage that Eric could only gape up at him and let the other take control until a shocked look of utter bliss stole over Kyle's pale, delicate features and the mermaid fucked himself on Eric with abandon, his dick filling and bouncing between them until Eric had to reach out and stroke him until Kyle was a writhing, open-mouthed mess on top of him.

Kyle had never felt anything so good before. Once the pain had tapered off into a mild, but persistent burn, he found that his brand new body knew how to move without any prompting. Eric's dick sliding in and out of him felt weird, but grinding down and rolling his hips in tight little circles felt intriguing, and before he knew what was happening, his body was doing both, undulating like an eel and contracting around the intrusion until unexpected pleasure began to spark at his fingertips. He felt like he was chasing a thread, pulling at an unraveling tapestry and moved faster and faster to catch up until he looked down and caught Eric's eyes, blown dark and huge, and it was all he could do to hold on when Eric gripped him and the ecstasy spiked.

Kyle's vision went momentarily white as heat and warmth filled him even as come spilled out of him in the same moment, only aware of Eric and their connected bodies, their connected heartbeats. Eric's hips slapped up against his backside in a few more jerking thrusts before he collapsed with a groan and pulled Kyle down on top of him to nestle his face into his damp hair, breathless and spent.

Kyle wrapped his arms around Eric and hugged him tightly, emotions of relief and joy and worry colliding in him so intensely that his eyes prickled warningly. He was scared for what the future might bring, but he was unspeakably grateful to have this hard-won moment with Eric.

"Kahl?" Eric asked tentatively, his fingers tangling in Kyle's messy riot of hair and tugging gently. His heart continued to beat wildly when Kyle lifted his head and gave him a truly magnificent smile - utterly blissed out and green eyes shining like Eric was the best thing he'd ever seen.

Eric felt simultaneously overwhelmed and at peace with the world, in awe that this marvelous being had saved him and given himself over to Eric so completely. He didn't know what the feeling building up inside him was, possessive and tender and all-consuming, but he'd sail the seven seas in a tiny scrap of a boat during the century's worst storm to make sure he'd never lose Kyle again - deaf, dumb, and all.

Kyle came easily when Eric grasped his chin between thumb and forefinger and brought their lips together in a soft, chaste kiss that lit stars behind his eyes.

Or rather, the box in his satchel went supernova.

The room exploded with light and a loud 'boom', taking them both by surprise, but before either could react the room was thrown into darkness, leaving the pair blinking away afterimages from wide, startled eyes.

"What the serious fuck was that?" Eric exclaimed, shoving Kyle off of him as he grabbed a butter knife from the discarded tray and leapt toward the open window where some asshole must have thrown a lit firework into his room as a prank. If he ever found out who would dare threaten his life in such a manner, he would shove Roman candle up the douchebag's ass and light the fuse with malicious glee.

Eric looked down through the window and saw nothing except a few merchants packing up their wares in the marketplace a few streets over as the sun sunk down over the horizon. He shouted out a furious "fuck you!" into the open night air just in case before slamming his shutters closed and latching them tightly.

"Eric..."

"What?!" the prince snapped, whirling around to see Kyle kneeling on his bed, staring down at a small box in his hands with a stunned expression.

" _Eric_ ," Kyle said again, his eyes finally raising to meet Eric's.

"Oh my god," Eric breathed as the knife fell from his hand and clattered to the ground, forgotten. "Oh my god, _what_?"

"Eric!" Kyle said again with an incredulous laugh as Eric swooped in on him and grabbed the sides of Kyle's face to press stunned kisses to Kyle's laughing mouth as the other repeated his name like a prayer.

"How is this even possible?" Eric muttered between kisses, tumbling onto the bed as Kyle threw the box aside and pulled him down.

"You broke the spell!" Kyle said deliriously. "I have my voice back!"

Eric was happy to oblige, he was certain, except for the fact he was confused as fuck. "Spell? What spell?"

"I was cursed by a sea witch who took my voice so I could have legs and find you! The spell broke when we had sex! Isn't this great?"

Eric slowly untangled himself from Kyle, his face contrastingly blank compared to Kyle's obvious excitement. A chill went through Eric as he gripped a handful of mussed sheets and looked over Kyle's shoulder at the empty box sitting closed abandoned on the bed.

"What are you saying? That you had sex with me so you could, what? Have legs?"

"No!" Kyle exclaimed, sitting up and reaching out to place a hand on Eric's knee. "It's not like that, I swear. I gave up my voice to become human, but I would have turned into an eel if you hadn't found me, because I only had three days and-"

"Stop."

Eric's voice was a harsh bark of command, and Kyle reared back like he'd been slapped. "Get your hands off me."

"Eric…I know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me! I really did save you that day. You were on your ship and that boy, Butters, was there and there was a storm and you got trapped in a rope and almost drowned..."

Eric moved swiftly off the bed and made a cutting motion with his hand to end Kyle's plea, his face going blotchy with fury. "I don't know if Stan or Chef put you up to this, but you had better leave now before I have my guards arrest you."

Kyle reared back in shock, baffled by Eric's sudden anger. Eric wouldn't meet his eyes, turning away as he fumbled with the laces of his pants with a furious blush, tucking his dick back in and putting the rest of his clothing back into order. Kyle felt icy cold panic clench around his heart, not knowing what to say or do so Eric would believe him. Kyle felt like Eric was slipping through his fingers like sand, and he couldn't bear the hurt and anger in the prince's eyes. Kyle had come too far and had been through to much to lose him now.

"Please, Eric. I love you!" Kyle cried, his eyes watering as he reached out for him, choking out a sob when the other rebuffed his gesture and turned away in harsh dismissal.

Even if Eric believed his crazy story about the sea witch, the truth was Kyle essentially used him to remain a human, even though he'd only done it to become human for _Eric_. The thought made Kyle feel slimy in his own skin, but what was done was done, and what was the point of being human if he couldn't be with the one he loved?

"I've wanted you from the moment I saw you," Kyle stated baldly, his voice thick with tears that he didn't bother to brush away from his face. "I saw you on your ship, before the wreck, and you were so... You're so beautiful. I would have done anything just to see you again, and I'm so sorry for lying to you. I never meant to hurt you in anyway."

"So...you're not a mermaid?" Eric still didn't look at him, but he angled his head toward Kyle, which the other took as a sign that he was at least listening.

"I'm not a mermaid!" Kyle yelped, outraged at the insinuation.

Eric whirled on him with a triumphant exclamation as he jabbed his finger at Kyle. "Ah ha! I fucking _knew_ it! Guards! Meeeeeehm!"

"I'm not a mermaid, because I'm a guy, dipshit! I'm a merman. Mer. Man." Kyle shouted over him like Eric was the one who was deaf.

"What's the difference?" Eric demanded. "Aren't you all called the same thing?"

Kyle spluttered, offended on behalf of his kind. "Are you the same as a human female?" Kyle countered hotly, and Eric narrowed his eyes, but thankfully stopped calling for his guards.

"No, but my mom has a dick."

Kyle opened his mouth, and then shut his teeth with a click, clearly unable to come up with a retort to that unexpected statement. Eric looked smug at catching Kyle off-guard, but the pleased expression soon slid off his face as he remembered his anger and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I don't know who you are or what you want, but you seriously need to leave before I fuck your shit up."

Kyle geared up for one last desperate bid to convince Eric of the truth, but in the end he slumped with a defeated nod and said nothing more. He knew how crazy he sounded, and the entire plan had been sheer insanity from the start. He was tired and heartbroken and at a complete loss after all of his efforts crashed and burned with nothing to show for his struggles except for a useless pair of legs that only meant he wouldn't be able to return home as a merman _or_ an eel. Even becoming Craig's slave was preferable to the alternative he was now faced with of trying to survive on land alone with absolutely no one or nothing.

Kyle managed to find and pull on the garments he'd been wearing on his lower body earlier, although he didn't know if he was even wearing them properly since the laces were in back where he couldn't quite reach. His hands were shaking so badly when he reached out for his satchel to shove Craig's magic box back inside that the tiny chest slipped from his fingers and he cried out with a flinch when the lid sprang open.

Instead of light and some kind of terrible magic Kyle had been braced for, soft music began to play from the box. Kyle hesitated, but picked up the trinket cautiously when the music continued to play, and when he looked inside he saw two tiny figures - one human and one mer - suspended and twined together, spinning slowly in an endless dance.

Kyle's face crumpled. He was paralyzed with misery as he watched the two figures with water spilling down his cheeks, but captivated by the beauty of the song and music box all the same. Softly, miserably, he began to murmur the familiar words to himself, recognizing the tune as the same melody he had sung to Eric on the beach while holding him in his arms. The power behind the mer song was gone since he was now human, though. The song had once been used by his kind as one of the most effective enchantments to lure sailors to their demise, but Kyle simply thought the song was beautiful despite having been used for evil deeds in the past. He had assumed Eric would be unaffected by the spell when he was unconscious, but the sheer longing Kyle had felt when singing to him must have penetrated into his subconscious, although not enough that Eric had felt inclined to walk right back into the waves after him.

Kyle saw movement at the corner of his eye and he cut off abruptly, startled.

"Don't stop," Eric breathed, staring at Kyle with a conflicted look on his face that was still streaked with ink and tears and the bruise on his jaw. "Please don't stop."

Kyle looked back at him helplessly, but the draw of the music was too much and he began to sing again, his voice ringing but hollow with misery.

 _"Into the sea_

 _Hold you close to me_

 _Slide 'neath the waves_

 _Down into the caves_

 _Kiss me my love_

 _Come rest in my arms_

 _Dream your dreams with me_

 _Slide beneath the sea_

 _Come to me my love_

 _Forget the land above."_

Eric cupped Kyle's face in one shaking hand, tracing his soft, wet cheek with his thumb without conscious thought. He sucked in a breath when Kyle's eyes closed in apparent agony, nuzzling into Eric's hand before turning to press a warm kiss to the center of his palm, but the prince didn't pull away.

"I guess we'll know by morning whether I'll stay human or you'll wake up with an eel in your bed," Kyle joked weakly, but he looked as terrified by the prospect as Eric felt. "That is, if you'll have me."

"Kahl..." Eric breathed, not knowing how it was possible that his mermaid - merman - was right here before him. Eric wanted so badly to believe that Kyle was the one. That he was _Eric's_.

He was angry and confused and felt like a complete idiot for wanting to believe that anyone could want him so much without even knowing him, human or not. Even so, he couldn't stand the thought of Kyle leaving yet, much less forcibly taken away by his guards or some stupid sea witch before Eric said so. He surged forward and took Kyle's red lips in a bruising kiss, which Kyle moaned and leaned into eagerly, impossibly receptive as he made needy noises into Eric's mouth that had him instantly, impossibly aroused.

If sex was what it took to make sure Kyle stayed human forever, Eric would leave no doubt in anyone's mind that Kyle belonged to him.

* * *

Notes: The song is "Into the Sea" by Amy Ruffle


End file.
